Getting Back to Business
by Sevandor1
Summary: After coming home from vacation, Megamind and Roxanne find themselves contending with some strange repercussions to their recent marriage.  A semi-sequel to "Getting Away From It All," takes place during the epilogue. Now complete... more or less!
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This story takes place during the early part of the epilogue to Getting Away From It All. It won't be as long a story (my Muse keeps telling me that, and I'm trusting her to be honest). Part of its purpose is to set up what will be a more serious (and probably longer) story to follow, tentatively titled "Legacy." As I'm still working on getting my arm better (yes, it is improving) and putting together the ebook verision of GAFIT, this story may be updated a bit erratically, so please bear with me._

_A last note that is something of a caution: I readily admit that the subject discussed during the drive home is something that is extremely significant to me, as it's something I've had to deal with in my own life. It addresses a prejudice I hadn't realized even existed until after I myself was married and had to face it, year after year. I fear that this is going to be an unpopular development with many readers, who have their own views and their own beliefs as to how life - for both themselves and characters they love - should go. Look at this, if you will, as another possibility. There will be other events, choices, and possible paths to come in my personal vision of these characters' lives that may surprise you, if not in this story, then in the next. And with all that said, I hope you enjoy it!  
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><p><em>Even in slight things the experience of the new<br>is rarely without some stirring of foreboding._

_Eric Hoffer_

Chapter One

"Well, do you suppose anyone missed us?" Megamind asked distractedly as he turned Roxanne's currently invisible Corvette onto the last maze of roads that would bring them to the hopefully still secret Lair — to home. After being gone from it for a full month — a _very _full month, as it had included not only long days of relaxing and restoring vacation, but dealings with a criminal madman, and, most important of all, both their engagement and their wedding — the place had a more distinct and special feel of home to it, the place they would return to at the end of the day, the place they would share and where they would build a life together, as a family. Whether that family would ever include more than themselves and Minion was not important; what was important was that they _were _a family, both emotionally and legally. There was a nice sense of solidity to that awareness, and even without discussing it, they knew they were in full agreement.

It was now the evening of the day before Labor Day, which as always fell on the first Monday of September. Late last night, Wayne had brought home Minion and their extraneous luggage, along with the rented SUV and the two brainbots that had stayed with them at the lake house in Sister Bay after the wedding. Afterward, he had picked up the newlyweds along with Roxanne's Corvette, and under cover of darkness had taken them to his mother's summer home in Traverse Bay, so that they could drive themselves home at a decent hour today. Lady Scott had left for her mansion in Metro City several days before, and she'd been surprisingly amenable to the notion of letting them use the place for the one night. They were Wayne's friends, after all, and the new owners of the house she'd been planning to sell across the lake in Wisconsin. To have the whole deal done and settled without any fuss on her part was enough to endear anyone to her.

Privately, both Megamind and Roxanne wondered if Lady Scott wasn't getting more than a touch dotty in her old age. Or if Wayne just hadn't bothered to mention who his "friends" happened to be.

Either way was fine with them, since it saved them the need for either a very long drive home or getting up before the crack of dawn, for the sake of maintaining Wayne's cover. The drive from Traverse City to Metro City wasn't terribly long, less than two hours at worst, so they felt perfectly justified in taking their good natured time getting up in the morning, getting ready to leave, and finally making the actual drive.

Roxanne had taken the wheel when they left Lady Scott's rather tastelessly overdecorated "summer house" on Traverse Bay. After they passed Ludington — the very mention of which still gave Megamind nervous twitches — she turned the driving over to her new husband. They had agreed that it would be a good idea to go into Metro City a day earlier than planned and in stealth mode, to avoid any potential paparazzi who might have gotten wind of what had happened during their vacation and wanted to be the first to pounce upon the newlyweds, for good or ill.

On Friday night, during a routine check via their link with the security systems at home they had already been warned that the city's brainbot patrols had spotted camera crews and lurking freelancers on many of the streets leading to and from the peninsula on which the Lair was situated, waiting to catch any glimpse of the newlyweds returning home. The news had prompted Wayne's suggestion to drop them off a day early at his mother's place to the north, thus keeping the chance of anyone spotting him to the one trip with Minion and the extra gear. None of them wanted to give away for certain the location of the Lair, nor did they want to risk revealing the truth of Wayne's "condition" before he could do so in the planned interview with Roxanne. The newshounds lying in wait would be worst on the day they were supposed to be returning, so coming back early might at least minimize the risks. As Megamind had vastly more experience when it came to driving invisibly in potentially heavy traffic, they had decided he should be the one to drive the last leg of their journey.

It turned out to be a wise precaution. Though none of the staked-out journalists and photographers had homed in on the exact location of the Lair, several would have spotted them well before they reached it, had they been visible. That would have necessitated either a mad dash to get to safety before they could be followed back to the Lair, or leading the would-be reporters on a chase until they were lost. Going invisibly was the most sensible idea all around, and it worked very well. When he'd modified the Corvette to give it a stealth mode, Megamind had gone all out, since it was his Roxanne who would be protected by it. To the invisibility he'd added the sound dampening systems he'd used for years in the Lair's music room to keep from annoying Minion (and to hide some of his embarrassing novice efforts at various instruments that intrigued him). Together, the car ran almost totally silent and out of sight, and thus they rolled right past several groups staked out in the old industrial area, hoping to catch sight of them if they did indeed live in this part of town.

Roxanne watched the largest group thus far totally miss their passage as the ex-villain asked his question, and she smiled crookedly. "Oh, I'd say _they _missed us," she quipped, nodding toward the group now behind them. "In more ways than one. I have this awful feeling that going to work on Tuesday is _not _going to be easy — or fun."

Megamind grinned in a charmingly wicked way as he took the car on the most circuitous route possible rather than head straight for the Lair, just in case someone had managed to pick them up on infrared or some such. "What, you don't think that everyone at the station won't be absolutely thrilled to see you again?"

The blue eyes rolled most expressively. "I'm sure they will be — and they'll hound me to death for every little gory detail. The women will either want to know all about the wedding or they'll want to know if I was out of my mind, and the men will want to hear all about Mitchell and the shooting or _they'll_ want to know if I was out of my mind. I know that gang like the back of my hand, and one way or another, it'll be miserable."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I don't think my day will be much better. I've got a meeting with the Mayor and the chiefs of emergency services on Tuesday afternoon, and I just_ know _they're going to whine about not being consulted first."

Now, Roxanne gave him a strange look somewhere in the no man's land between skepticism and disgust. "About us getting married? Why should they whine about that? It's none of their business!"

She was working up to a rant worthy of the former Evil Overlord himself; he smiled and patted her knee consolingly. "It isn't," he agreed, "not any more than it's your boss's business, but you want to bet he'll ask why you didn't talk it over with him first, so he could work out all the exclusive media coverage and break the news even before there were any rumors flying around?"

The reporter harrumphed. "No bet, I _know _he will, that's one of the things I'm dreading. Tomorrow, we're going to sit down and pick exactly which pictures and footage the station will get, decide if KMCP will get an interview with us, when it will be, and who will handle it, _and_ come up with a statement for the rest of the press. But why should the Mayor or the Chief of Police think you should've consulted them first?"

Now, the blue hero sighed. "Because they think they own me. And in a sense, they do. I'm still not an entirely free man. I have some pardons, but not all, and I have all the luggage from my past still there. I'm the only Defender they've got, and because I have a rotten past and I don't have Wayne's superpowers, they think they can control me in ways they never dared with him. Getting married is something they might see as a threat to that control. What if one day we decide we want to have a family, and I choose to hang up the cape and quit the hero biz for good?"

Roxanne couldn't stop the snort of laughter that escaped her. "I can't quite picture that, you settling down to become a regular family man. For that matter, I can't quite picture it for myself, either. I know we haven't really talked about it, but even if it's possible, I don't know that having children is something I want. I enjoy my career, and with the kind of parenting role models I've had, I think I'd be a lousy mother. I'd be so terrified of making the mistakes my parents did, I'd go overboard in the opposite direction and probably wind up making a whole new set of horrible mistakes. And even if that didn't happen... I like kids, but I've never really felt my biological clock ticking that way. I think I'd rather be an 'aunt' to other people's children than a mother to my own."

To her surprise, Megamind nodded without hesitation. "Same here. I've thought about the possibilities, and while genetically speaking it _is _possible, I just don't think I'm cut out to be a father. You had divorced parents, I had _no _parents, and the thought of making mistakes that could ruin the life of my own child...!" He shook his head. "I don't want to risk it. I would if you wanted a family, but I'd never be able to get rid of the worries."

Roxanne considered her new husband curiously. "You mean you don't feel some biological imperative to carry on your race?"

It was his turn to snort. "Oh, right, like that could ever happen! No matter what, any kids we might have would be half-bloods, and with only Earth humans as potential mates, every subsequent generation would have less and less of my race in 'em. Even if my racial traits were dominant, it would still wind up as a token gesture in the long run. And _that _possibility scares me even more. Being the father of a small group of people who would always be in a tiny minority and would always be obviously different from just about everyone else on the planet?" His shudder was eloquent. "It wouldn't be perpetuating my people; it would be creating targets for prejudice. I couldn't do it, I just...couldn't." His green eyes flicked to his wife, desperate for her to understand his feelings on this subject they hadn't ever broached so deeply.

To his relief, she didn't appear disappointed. "I have to admit, I'd never thought of it from that angle," she said after taking a few moments to digest what he'd said. "You're right, though. I'd like to think that humanity as a whole has grown up enough to accept people of different races unconditionally, but it's not even true with the races that are native to Earth. It isn't just exceptional nut cases who have trouble accepting you because you're so different. I've even talked to people who like you who figure that because you're one of a kind, when you're gone, you'll be an interesting footnote in the history of the planet, and that will be the end of the story. I've always had the feeling that for some of 'em, they wouldn't be so accepting if they thought you might have children like you. That's an awful burden to place on any child, knowing that they would be singled out and treated differently just because they exist."

"Exactly. Oh, if you wanted a family, I'd try to find some way to make it work, some way for all of us to be happy, but the more I've thought about it, the more I've started to realize that sometimes, the difficult choice is the right one. It would be easy to say screw the world, we're going to do what we want, but we're not talking about just us. A child isn't a thing you make and own; you _have _to consider the consequences of bringing a new life into the world. And I'm just not strong enough to inflict those consequences on someone because I might want the selfish pleasure of creating a child with you. It would be easy to choose to be selfish, especially if it's something that would make you happy. But..."

Now, Roxanne reached over to touch him, soothingly. "It's all right, sweetie, I understand. You know, we live in a baby crazy country. People forget that _not _having children is a perfectly acceptable choice, and that for some couples, it's the best choice, the right choice. Unless part of what you want from life has always included children and the job of caring for them, having them just because other people say you should is wrong, just as wrong as expecting your children to fulfill _your _hopes and dreams."

Her chuckle was soft and rueful. "You never met my parents — frankly, I kinda hope you never do. My mother leaned on me to follow her into the nursing profession, but she _really _wanted me to become a doctor, because she couldn't make the cut in medical school. My father wanted me to be a good little housewife and mother to a dozen sons because that's what he wanted from his wife and didn't get. I was an only child because when I was just a baby, both he and I caught the mumps, and after that, he was sterile. They tried to make me be everything _they_ didn't get out of life. That's an awful thing to lay on any kid."

Megamind saw her point. "Yes, at least my parents just gave me a chance to live. Being an orphan was better than being a pawn." He hesitated, slowing the car as they finally approached the old abandoned power plant that housed the Lair. "So are you saying you don't want to have a family?"

"I already have a family, Mykaal: you and Minion, and our friends. But family as in kids of our own?" Roxanne considered her answer carefully. "I think what I'm saying is that I don't want to rush into anything until we've both considered it very thoroughly. If I had to choose right now, I think I'd say no, I don't want to have a family. I like my career, I like where it's going, I like where it could go. I also like where things are going for you, and for both of us together. If children never entered the picture, I'd be okay with it — relieved, actually. Because I'm just as afraid as you are of making mistakes that can't be unmade. I'd rather choose not to have kids now than jump into it and find out it was the wrong choice after it's too late. Besides, if we do decide we might want to, we could always try fostering children first to see how we handle having them in our lives. That's a big part of the whole question, whether or not we can make being who we are and what we want to be mesh with the needs of children who would be our responsibility."

"That's true. I suppose we're rushing things as it is, even thinking about this now. We haven't even been married for two weeks!"

She agreed. "It may not be possible, anyway," she pointed out. "We've been intimate for over a year, we've never bothered with precautions and contraceptives, and so far, nothing, not even one late period. I know that the sterility thing with the mumps only affects men, but it's possible I have fertility issues of my own. It did run on my mother's side of the family."

Her husband made an odd sound as they passed through the disguised door to the Lair's garage. "I suppose, but there may be other inhibiting factors."

She arched one eyebrow. "Oh? Like what?"

"Like _I _could be infertile, or... I'm not actually sure about it, yet, I've been looking into it for a while, but I haven't quite finished the research. Too much work, too little time. I'd rather know for sure before I say anything more. Is that okay?"

The reporter considered it. "As long as you're not trying to hide something important from me — like you're dying or have some awful disease — yeah, it's fine."

"No, it's nothing like that!" the ex-villain hastened to assure her. "It's just... potentially embarrassing."

"For you or me?"

He flushed. "Mostly for me, I think. More 'I've been a juvenile for _way _too many years' stuff."

Roxanne laughed, but kindly. "You know that really doesn't make any difference to me. Just as long as you never lose your _joie de vivre — _joy in life, the excitement of living," she translated when he gave her the strangest look, as if she'd been making up words just to tease him. "Some people call it the sense of wonder, the inner child. Just never lose that part of you, and I'm good, even if you need a hundred years to finish 'growing up.' It'll keep both of us young."

"It's a promise," he answered with an abashed smile, then sighed as he put the car in park and turned off the engine. "Well, we're back. Let's see how much things changed while we were away."

From the windows of Roxanne's now visible car, nothing seemed at all out of the ordinary. As they opened the doors and stepped out, all was as it had been for years. The same old garage, the same old work areas, piles of stuff to be used as raw materials in Megamind's various inventions, shelves full of boxes full of the same, tools of all kinds, the big curtain that separated the blue hero's thinking area from the rest of the work space, the same old grungy windows, kept grungy to discourage the curious, a herd of several hundred brainbots headed straight for them, the heaps of—

"BowgbowgBOWGBOWGBOWG_BOWGBOWGBOWG!"_

"BowgBOWGbowgbowg?"

"BOWGBOWGBOWG narfbowg BOWGBOWG zort _BOWGBOWGBOWG!"_

_"AAAAGGGGGGGHHHHH!"_

Both Megamind and Roxanne had experienced the dubious pleasure of enthusiastic brainbot welcomes on a fairly regular basis, but never had they been pounced on by quite so many all at once, all seemingly bent on being the one to greet them most energetically. With Pinky, Blinkie, and the bots who had been brought up to Sister Bay to help with both the wedding and its preparations in the fore, it didn't take a supergenius to understand what had them so excited: after too many years of denial, evasion, and avoidance of the truth, Daddy had _finally _given them a real Mommy.

It was difficult to tell just which of them was their primary target for a lot of puppy-like happy dance celebratory behavior; the bots were just as thrilled to have both of them back home again after such a long time away. Some were so carried away with excitement, they latched onto their ersatz "parents" as they might to rescue a citizen in danger, pulling them off their feet and up into the "protective" cloud of happy brainbot "children."

"No, let go!" Megamind protested when he felt himself hauled off his feet, then let loose a horrified bellow when the bots obeyed, coming within inches of hitting the concrete floor rather painfully before other bots grabbed hold of him to prevent it.

Amid the various happy noises now augmented with scolding bowgs as the bots who'd almost let Daddy get hurt were chewed out, he heard Roxanne's laughter. "You might as well let them get it out of their systems, hon," she suggested, though there was a tiny edge of hysteria to her amused tone when the bots almost dropped her as well.

The ex-villain hardly saw the wisdom of that idea. "But Roxanne, they could — _aAAaaaaAAAaaGgh!"_ His shrill multi-octave spanning howl was prompted by the overeager yapping of one of the toothier bots accidentally nipping him in the butt.

Amid the clamor of bowging and the bouncing and whirling and bumping and jumping of the glowing little robot bodies, the sound of heavier footsteps were almost but not quite lost, followed by a firm command of, "Stop that right now! I mean it! Put them down — _gently! —_ or every last one of you will be shut down for permanent overhaul!"

Minion's strident yell had a more authoritative effect on the misbehaving brainbots, since he hadn't been gone for a whole month and they weren't all excited and happy to see him again, with their new Mommy. He was still using his human-like backup cybersuit, and its intentional similarity to the retired Metro Man no doubt had some additional effect on them, at least in terms of physique.

A few of the brainbots still tended to snap and snarl at Wayne, but many had come to accept him as a new friend of Daddy and Minion, while even more were intimidated by memories of the days when the arrival of Metro Man on the scene meant a lot of hurt for poor bots was coming. Minion was careful to choose clothing that wouldn't stir up those memories when using this robotic body, but some of the brainbots had long memories and a lot of remembered fear. Those in this group that did went scuttling off at once, some backed off quickly, like errant puppies with their tails between their legs, and the rest had enough sense to make sure Daddy and Mommy were set back on their feet safely, some even going so far as to make small apologetic whimpering sounds.

Minion came striding up, a contrite look on his own fishy face. "I'm sorry, sir, Mrs. Roxanne, I was upstairs and couldn't move fast enough to stop them when the security system pinged your arrival. I thought some of 'em might pull something like this, I should've kept a closer eye out..."

"It's okay, Minion," Roxanne assured him as she straightened her disheveled clothes. "They were just excited, and there's no harm done."

"Speak for yourself," Megamind grumbled, rubbing his butt where the careless bot had bitten him. "When I find out which one did this..." Both his tone and expression promised dire consequences for the culprit.

His new wife smirked as she gently patted his abused behind. "Don't make such a fuss, sweetie, I'll check later to make sure there's no permanent damage."

Her promise brought a happy smile to his face and encouraged him to let go of his complaints at once. "Hmm, well, I suppose it _was _just an accident, but it couldn't hurt to have you check a little more closely, just to be sure there's no serious damage."

"Oh, I can help with that, sir," Minion began in his usual obliging manner as he went about collecting the small pieces of luggage from the Corvette, only to choke to a halt at the green-eyed glare that threatened to send the water in his habitat to a full boil in two seconds flat. He coughed, fins flittering in a piscine version of a blush. "Or... maybe not. Sorry, sir, I forgot you're still sort of on your honeymoon. Are you sure you didn't want to stay at the lake house for another week or two? Or go somewhere more traditionally romantic, the Caribbean or Europe...?"

Megamind's answer was a succinct, "Pfffft," accompanied by a wave of one hand. "Over-priced, overrated, and still out of the question for me without a passport. No, no, we've discussed it already, and we'll take some time next month, when half of Metrocity isn't chumping on the beet for us to return on _shedual."_

"It's 'champing at the bit,' hon," Roxanne corrected, smiling. "If I didn't know better, Minion, I'd think you weren't happy to see us home again."

The ichthyoid chuckled, just a bit nervously. "Oh, no, Mrs. Roxanne, it's not that at all. I just think it's a shame that you and Sir didn't get a proper honeymoon like you deserve, especially when the people you're delaying it for don't give half a real hoot about your happiness. When I got back yesterday, there were already messages from your boss and the Mayor and half the other city officials, reminding you of meetings and appointments and things like that for both of you. I wanted to call all of 'em and tell them that you were held up and won't be home for another week, just to pay them back for being so impatient and annoying."

"That's an excellent thought," the blue hero commended brightly, then sagged and sighed. "But I suspect there's nothing to be gained by putting it off. The longer they wait, the more ridiculous the rumors they'll come up with."

Now, Roxanne snorted as they headed for the elevator to the living quarters. "Kinda hard to imagine, considering some of the things we've heard from the gossip rags so far. Half a dozen terrorists with Uzis at the reception, a diamond studded nose piercing for an engagement ring, the bride wore black, you came in sequins, I was tied up and dragged to the altar for old time's sake, there was raw meat and blood served for dinner..."

Megamind rubbed the blue skin between his eyes, groaning. "Where do they come up with some of this garbage? I've been the city's defender for over two years, and they _still _have these ideas that I'm some kind of barbarian!"

The reporter sympathized. "Well, that was the biggest reason to come back now, to put a stop to this before it gets completely out of hand. Always the best cure for ridiculous rumors, a good dose of solid truth."

"I hope so," Minion agreed as he hustled into the lift with their bags. "I've never understood why, but I think some of these so-called reporters really enjoy making up junk like that! I mean, why else would they come up with stories that make Sir sound like a vampire? _I'm _the one with the nasty teeth, and nobody says stuff like that about _me!"_

"I don't think some of them have ever really grasped the concept that you're actually a fish," was Megamind's opinion. "They think you _are _a gorilla — and wasn't there at least one person who thought that you'd been killed because none of the pictures of the wedding that leaked out had a gorilla in 'em?"

"Didi Benton, WTMC Daily News," Roxanne confirmed. "The half-watt light of local tabloid TV. She was sure you were behind every murder in the Midwest before you gave up the life of crime, and she still thinks that you _did_ kill Wayne and replaced him with a powerless clone to get yourself off the hook. She's a big reason I'm glad Wayne wants to do an exposé on himself — so to speak. I don't know what her problem is, it's almost like she has a personal grudge against you and wants to see you back behind bars, even if she has to invent charges."

Her husband's groan turned to a heavy sigh. "She _does _have a personal grudge against me — but not for the reasons you might think, nothing criminal or such. About six years ago, she started sending letters to me in prison..."

The blue eyes widened as the lift stopped and the doors opened onto the living floor. "Oh?" she said in an innocent tone that was anything but.

He sighed yet again. "Not _those_ of kinds of letters," he hastened to assure her, well aware of what she was thinking. He _had_ gotten letters of that kind, from supposedly love-struck women he'd never met, and had always tossed them in the trash without a second glance. They might have bolstered his vanity, confirming his claim of incredible handsomeness, but beyond that, they were either disturbing or repugnant. Once he had fallen for Roxanne, there was literally no other woman in the world for him. He could appreciate beautiful women in an abstract, objective way, like works of art, or befriend women who were interesting and amiable, but he felt not even the slightest hint of romantic or even mere sexual attraction to any woman but Roxanne.

Megamind sometimes wondered if this was just him or a trait of his race — something else his research was trying to determine — but now was not the time to get into that. "She'd just moved into town, looking for work as a stringer with one of the local papers, and she'd heard all about you and how your career took off after Metro Man picked you as his reporter of choice for all interviews and such. She _said _she found it tragic that no one had ever tried to give me equal time, so she volunteered to be my Roxanne Ritchi — she even said it that way, which I found utterly appalling. Needless to say, I was _not_ interested, and she took it as a personal rejection, which I suppose it was."

Thinking back to their past — in particular the biggest reason Megamind had first kidnapped her, wanting a chance to tell people his side of the conflict with Metro Man after she'd had her first exclusive interview with the hero — Roxanne was a bit befuddled. "Wait a second, I thought you _wanted _equal time. And when Didi offered to give it to you, you said no? Why?"

Megamind's answering smile was enigmatic. "Oh, I had my reasons. For one thing, you know very well that I've always considered you the smartest person in Metrocity — second only to myself, of course. Didi might've been more aptly named 'Dodo.' I can't say that I was terribly impressed by the letters of a supposed reporter whose spelling was more atrocious than my pronunciation!"

Roxanne half-winced, half-giggled. "Oooh, I didn't know that about her."

The blue nose wrinkled. "Yes, I'm sure that's why she went into television rather than print journalism — no offense intended to you, my love, I've always considered you to be the pinnacle of wit and intelligence to which everyone in your profession should aspire. At any rate, she was an idiot and was obviously attempting to create a career for herself by using me; she didn't even have a job in journalism, at the time. When I finally got through to her that no meant no, she essentially vowed revenge. I imagine that this time, she means for people to believe that _I_ killed Minion."

"Then she _is _a total moron," Roxanne declared with a disgusted curl of her lip. "You aren't dead, Minion, are you?"

"No, ma'am!" the fish replied cheerfully, forging on ahead of the couple to deposit the bags in their room. "Not the last time I looked. Am I floating belly up? Are my scales falling off? I can't tell..."

The brunette laughed at his little joke; his ward made a mildly grumpy face. "We'll have to see about rebuilding your usual cybersuit soon, ASAP. These mindless drones just aren't capable of dealing with change."

Minion sadly agreed, but Roxanne sniffed. "Then I shudder to think how they're going to deal with the proof that we _did _get married!"

The ex-villain made a sound that defied description. "My dear, I'm afraid that 'shudder' will only be the beginning."

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Thank you to all my fabulous readers and reviewers for your kind words and your patience. Although I knew that I would disappoint some readers when I made the decision to explore the possibility of our favorite couple choosing to remain childless, I am also gratified by the mature response that this decision has generally received. I know that there are many young (and not so young!) folks who love babyfics, but I felt that there are already plenty of writers out there, exploring that particular future in a lot of different ways. No one was really considering this potential future — which I personally believe is a strong probability, given their jobs and their personalities, not to mention their ages — and since I myself have already lived through and lived with making the choice to remain childless after marriage, I thought I would be a good person to explore this scenario, as it's writing from experience. I have some interesting things planned for our couple's future (as I've said before, there's a reason the next story I plan to write is tentatively titled "Legacy"), and in the meantime, I hope you enjoy this part of the bigger story. Onward!_

_PS: For those who have expressed concern over the state of my arm, there are some new developments in that area that may be pointing to a major underlying cause. I'm not sure how the recovery from this will go, but I at least have some glimmers of hope now that this will not be a permanent disability. We shall have to wait and see._

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><p>Chapter Two<p>

"Roxanne! Have you seen my Emergency Supply Case? I know I put it in the car before we left the lake house, and now I can't find it anywhere!"

"You mean your goodie bag? Yeah, I had Pinky put it away in the pantry yesterday. I didn't think the bedroom was exactly the right place to keep your snacks when the kitchen's only a few steps away."

As she sat before the mirror at the sumptuous Art Deco dressing table in the Lair's master suite, putting the final touches on her hair and makeup before heading off for work — Minion having been ever so kind as to bring them breakfast in bed as a special treat before the beginning of what was shaping up to be a busy and potentially difficult day — Roxanne saw in the reflection her husband of two weeks as he came stalking out of the large walk-in closet in the wall directly behind her. Megamind entered the room in a dramatic sweep of black and blue leather, heavy silks, and bright silver retractable spikes (the last being considered more appropriate for a meeting with the mayor and the city officials than his generally preferred steel spikes). It was the first time in well over a month that she'd seen him decked out in his full superhero splendor, and she had to admit, she really enjoyed the sight, even if he wasn't in the best of moods.

She could tell that this was so because Megamind was also wearing a singularly frustrated glower on his long blue face. "It wasn't just a 'goodie bag,'" he declared as he pointed at the nearly ever-present Pinky while attempting to pull on one of his long leather gloves. Half-on, it flapped absurdly off his upraised hand and rather spoiled the image of imperious command he'd been going for. "You!" he ordered as he yanked the glove up his left arm and fumbled with the buckle on the strap around his bicep, annoyed at how quickly he'd gotten out of practice, suiting up. "Go get it and bring it back here, _immediately!" _

Pinky, who had been supervising Roxanne's preparations to make sure everything was just right, gave a hesitant bowg, as if loath to follow instructions. This _was _Daddy talking, but then, wasn't helping Mommy important, too?

"Go ahead, Pinky," the reporter encouraged with a nod of her head. "I can finish up without you."

For a moment, the brainbot seemed to disagree, but with Mommy reinforcing Daddy's order, she didn't have much choice. She zipped off as fast as she could, so that she could return just as quickly.

Megamind muttered some odd unintelligible curse about fickle and traitorous creations of science under his breath as he continued his fight, now with the right glove. Even with his alien ambidexterity, it was always the more troublesome glove of the two, and his already frustrated mood only made matters worse. Roxanne saw this, and came over.

"Let me give you a hand with that," she suggested soothingly, by now well familiar with how to help her personal superhero with his garb when his agitated mood was making him less than nimble-fingered. "What's bothering you, sweetie?" she asked casually as she calmly slipped the strap into the buckle and adjusted it so that it would be comfortable for him, then checked the fit on the other. "Are you worried about your meeting, or are you just annoyed with me for moving your bag?" She had to admit that she'd be disappointed with him if he said the latter.

The blue genius let loose a huge breath, a sigh of debatable origins. "I'm not annoyed with you," he said, adding, "not exactly. It's just that I'd put something at the bottom of the case to keep it safely hidden. I suppose I should've taken it out as soon as we got home."

"That might've avoided some frustration," she agreed. "But I should've looked to make sure there was nothing more important inside it, too. You do do that, sometimes, hide things in odd places. So, you're not worried about the meeting with the City Council?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't say that I'm _worried_, but I'm not looking forward to it, either. I don't know what stupid questions they've got planned for me, but I just _know _they've got 'em." He scowled, black eyebrows drawing together most expressively. "I _hate _being asked stupid questions!"

She sympathized. "I know, I don't like 'em, either, and I'm wagering my boss won't be a whole lot better. Just try to keep your cool, handsome, and don't let them goad you into saying anything you don't _want_ to say. Once KMCP gets to make the official announcement and show the stills and clips we picked out for them on tonight's news, we can call a press conference for later in the week to let the rest of the media ask their questions."

The green eyes widened. "Won't your boss be upset with that? I thought you were going to arrange an exclusive interview for your station."

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind. I didn't ask for any extra vacation time, so I don't owe him any special favors. He's getting the announcement and the first photos and videos, and that exclusive with Wayne that he doesn't even know about, yet. That's enough. If they ask you anything about our vacation or our wedding or us that you don't want to answer or don't know how to answer, just tell them we're planning an official news conference, and they can ask their questions then."

The green eyes narrowed slightly, the corners crinkling in a frown. "But what if I don't want to _ever_ answer them?"

She understood his leeriness about answering personal questions, since the moment the two of them had become a couple, the more salacious members of the local media had blindsided him with all kinds of inappropriate queries about the more private parts of his anatomy. "Then just tell them 'no comment,' or let me take the question. I'm a reporter; I'm used to handling these tricks the tabloids use to try tripping people into giving embarrassing answers, or to pry into personal business."

Megamind was willing to defer to her expertise in this area; he just hoped he didn't get so flustered or angry that he forgot to follow her sound advice. Just as Roxanne finished adjusting the straps on both his gloves, Pinky returned with the large black vinyl zip bag that Daddy called his Emergency Supply Case. The reporter took the bag while the bot retreated to clean up the dressing table and the ex-villain laced together the fingers of both hands, ensuring that the thin leather of the snugly fitted gloves was seated properly between them. Roxanne slid open the bag's zipper, peering inside and seeing the expected collection of the various non-perishable snack items the alien liked to keep in the car while traveling, just in case he found himself in need of an extra burst of energy, or was experiencing a bad munchie attack.

"Are you thinking you might need to crank up your metabolism so you can take on the City Council?" she wondered, still unable to see why he considered finding this so important.

He shook his head as he checked himself in the mirror and straightened his flared collar. "No. I told you, I'd hidden something at the bottom, just to make sure I didn't lose it before we got home."

She laughed. "Yeah, it's a good place, you might lose track of anything less valuable than the bag with your private candy stash. What did you hide? Fudge? Cashew brittle?"

With an exaggeratedly disdainful — and therefore feigned — sniff, Megamind reached into the open bag, rummaged about for a moment, then pulled out his hand again, a small dark blue velvet pouch dangling from one black-clad finger. "Something _much _more important," he assured her. Deftly, he slipped two fingers of the same hand into the neck of the tiny pouch, opened it, then flipped it over, letting the contents drop into the hand Roxanne reflexively extended to catch whatever fell out.

She saw the little thing that hit her palm, and blinked. "Your wedding ring?" she said, a bit confused. "Why were you hiding your wedding ring in your goo— Emergency Supply Case? Come to think of it, _when _did you put it there? You were wearing it when we went to bed last night!"

"This isn't the ring you gave me," the ex-villain clarified, just a wee bit smugly. "It's a copy I had Max Andersen make during our last week on vacation; I picked it up when we stopped in Fish Creek to say goodbye to Sunny and Toby and the others on Friday afternoon."

Now, she was even more confused; her blue eyes narrowed. "Why do you need a copy of your wedding ring? Are you expecting to lose it?"

But the bald head shook most emphatically. "Oh, no, I'm going to keep it safe at all times, I promise you that. But it occurred to me that I can't possibly _wear _it at all times." He waggled his fingers, the soft, flexible glove leather making only the barest creaky sound. "I need to wear gloves when I'm out doing my heroic duties — for safety's sake, if nothing else. But the ring you gave me won't fit under them, and having Minion make me looser gloves didn't seem at all wise, since without the proper snug fit, the leather can slip and I lose dexterity. So I had a copy of the ring made that could be worn _over _the gloves."

Now that it had been pointed out to her, Roxanne did have to admit that the platinum ring seemed a bit larger and heavier than she remembered. "You could just leave the ring at home when you have to work," she told him. "I wouldn't mind. You don't have an ordinary nine-to-five job, after all."

"I knew you'd say that," he smirked. "But the truth is, _I _would mind. I know very well that there are going to be people watching every little thing I do, looking for some evidence that I forced you into this, or that I'm not taking it seriously — idiots like Dodo Benton. I am _not _going to give them even the tiniest crumb to sink their teeth into, not if I can help it! _That—" _He pointed dramatically to the duplicate of his wedding band. "—is something I _can_ help, so I did. And I didn't want to take any chance of misplacing it in all our luggage before we got home."

Roxanne blinked again at the platinum circle, then swallowed, feeling her throat thickening with emotion. "You mean you spent all that money to have a second wedding ring custom-made to wear over your gloves when you're out working, just to show the gossip-mongers that you really do take our marriage seriously?"

To her surprise, rather than brag about his own cleverness, Megamind suddenly wilted, becoming nervous and fidgety. Hearing her say it had just made him consider a new possibility, one he'd embarrassingly missed before. "I — I suppose it wasn't a very good idea, was it? Stupid, in fact. They'll probably take it the wrong way and think I'm an alien making fun of Earth traditions, mocking the whole concept of mar-_umjh!_"

He hadn't seen the kiss coming, and it very effectively derailed his negative train of thought. His wife deliberately kissed him breathless, knowing that it would knock his brain out of hyperdrive into a calmer, more peaceful — if exceptionally sappy — frame of mind.

"It wasn't a stupid idea," she told him when she ended the kiss, full knowing that though he looked to be completely lost in an addled cloud of bliss, he was aware of every word she said. "It was a sweet, absolutely _wonderful_ idea, Mykaal, and if anyone dares to say otherwise, just tell me, and I'll personally run them over with my Invisible 'Vette so they won't know what hit 'em."

He smiled, still rather sappily, but with mischievous delight. "Ah, my beautiful temptress is showing her naughty vixen side!" he teased.

She accepted the accusation with good grace and a wicked smile. "You bet your blue bottom I am! Do you know how many guys whine about being asked to wear a wedding ring, and how many others take it off or try to hide it so they can come on to other women or cheat on their wives? It may look a little odd, but your heart's so much in the right place, it'll probably make some men feel ashamed of themselves — and rightly so."

The green eyes blinked at her, the haze of sappiness lifting. "Really? I know that plenty of men cheat on their wives — I swear half the prisoners who'd been married bragged about it — but you think my idea would actually make some men feel bad about being... well, _bad?"_

Roxanne chuckled, patting his cheek with her empty hand. "Yeah, sweetie, that's exactly what I think. When the city's former Evil Overlord not only turns hero and gets the girl but actually sweeps her off her feet and marries her, then is so danged serious and proud of the commitment he made that he insists on wearing his wedding ring out in the open at all times, even though his working clothes have tight leather full-arm gloves...! Oh, yeah, I'd say you'll make at least a few jerks feel ashamed of themselves, and maybe even get idiots like Didi Benton to think twice about calling this a sham marriage. And even if I'm wrong and they keep on acting like the idiots they are, it's _still_ a very sweet and romantic thing to want to do, and it sure won't hurt to try."

She held out her empty hand and made a "give it here" gesture, just as she'd done over two years ago when he'd drifted down from the skies holographically disguised as Metro Man, having just run off the dimwitted "Tighten." This time, however, he didn't hesitate before placing his hand in hers. Rather than fiddle with the watch around his left wrist, she simply took his hand and slipped the ring on the proper finger, then gave a soft, appreciative sniff. "Perfect fit. Mr. Andersen really does do good work. I couldn't've told it wasn't the original if I hadn't already known." She looked up from the ring to her husband's flushed and broadly smiling face.

"Thank you," he said almost shyly, explaining the blush. "I... wanted to ask you to do that, since you're the one who put the real wedding ring on my finger. This makes it feel more... right, more official. I know, I know," he added with a very exaggerated groan, head drooping, shoulders sagging melodramatically beneath his broad studded-leather collar. "It's pathetic and ridiculous, but it just makes me feel better."

The reporter's smile both widened and softened. "You're welcome, you big blue ball of romantic mush. Any time you want me to put on your ring for you, just ask." She gave him a light, brief peck on the lips, then reluctantly stepped away. "Right now, we'd better get moving. I've got a meeting with Jack Kincaid in less than an hour, and you said you wanted to do a citywide patrol sweep before your meeting so everyone will know you're back on the job for the first day of school. It's Minion's first real official day working with you as your partner in heroics, and I'm sure he's just about ready to pop all those little knobby crests on his head, waiting for you to get going."

Megamind's overdramatic moment passed and he followed her to the bedroom doors, making sure his de-gun and holster were secure as he went. "Oh, yes, he's just dying to show off the black and blue leather jacket and matching holster belt Toby made for him, just for the occasion. I may not need to find time to rebuild his gorilla body, after all. After today, he may decide he wants to stick with a cybersuit that can wear _real_ clothes."

Roxanne gave a ladylike snort of amused skepticism. "And wind up being just another leather-jacketed fish in the crowd, with twice as much laundry to do and clothes to mend at home? Don't count on it!"

* * *

><p>As far as Roxanne was concerned, that was the high point of her day. Thanks to her car's stealth mode — and the fact that she was coming in before the shift from early to late morning crew — she managed to make it into the station's underground parking garage and to the elevator without getting spotted. On the ride up, she'd begun to harbor hopes that she'd make it to her boss's office, unharassed, but that pipe-dream died the moment the elevator doors opened.<p>

_"She's here!"_

Valarie the Receptionist's high-pitched shriek — now, _that _was a proper lady-scream! — nearly popped Roxanne's eardrums and was, apparently, audible to every single person in the building, half of whom seemed to have been hanging about somewhere within a fifty-foot radius of the elevator lobby. The space that had been empty short moments ago was suddenly full of people, some of whom Roxanne was sure she didn't know from Adam and who very likely didn't even work for the station. The flurry of clicking sounds heralded cell phone cameras going off, with a few flashes from more conventional cameras here and there. This wasn't the first time Roxanne had been faced with a crowd like this, but all things considered, she wasn't quite sure if this one was friendly or hostile.

"Oh, darn, he's not with her!"

"Who cares, we get to see _him_ all the time! I wanna see the ring!"

"Oooh, yes, didn't the _Gazette _say it's a five-carat rock?"

"I heard twenty!"

"Don't be ridiculous, that'd just make her a mugging target!"

"So? What's the use of having a boyfriend who's a superhero if he can't keep you from getting mugged?"

"But could he even _afford _something that big?"

"Not unless he stole it..."

"C'mon, Roxie, show us the ring!"

Roxanne's head was still spinning from all the weird comments coming at her from all directions, along with the cell phones being shoved in her face to snap pictures. She was seriously considering making a tactical retreat into the elevator when someone grabbed her left arm and pulled her forward, yanking her hand up as if it was some sort of rare specimen to be examined closely. She _knew _she should've borrowed Megamind's old back-up de-gun...

"Huh," one of the previously shrieking young women said in a disappointed tone. "That's not even five carats..."

"Yeah, what is it, a measly two or three? In plain silver?"

"Oh, shut up, Nan, it's be_-oo-_tiful!"

"I'll say, that's a real sparkler!"

"How much did he pop for that, Rox?"

"Who gives a rat's ass? I think the whole thing is just disgusting, if you ask me!"

"Nobody _asked _you, Sheila...!"

"Well, I always thought Roxie had _so _much better taste...!"

"What's wrong with her taste? I always thought Megamind was kinda cute..."

"Eeeeeewww! Are you out of your mind?"

"Yeah, get off your high horse, Chloe. I know _I'd_ never marry some little weird blue alien thing!"

"That's 'cause any guy with even bad taste wouldn't _want_ you...!"

"All right, all right, break it up!" a familiar man's voice cut through the budding cat-fight, taking Roxanne by the shoulders and gently pulling her free of it. "She's just gotten in, and she's supposed to be in a meeting with Mr. Kincaid in five minutes. Get back to work and give her some room to breathe!"

Still a little shell-shocked from the sudden barrage of what looked to be at least half the female employees in the entire Metro Media Building — and wishing she'd taken up Megamind on his last minute offer to send Pinky and a half-dozen patrol bots with her, just in case — Roxanne trusted her gut instinct that the familiar voice was also a friendly one and allowed herself to be pulled away from the reluctantly dispersing gaggle of girls from the clerical staff pool. When she turned to identify her rescuer, she was relieved to see the smiling face of Ken Akiyama, the husband of her best friend, Kim.

"Thanks, Ken," she said with a huge and grateful sigh as he helped her get past the curious staff workers into a quieter, emptier corridor in the inner offices. "I was expecting _something _when I got here, but not quite _that!"_

Ken — a good-looking Japanese-American who was KMCP's daytime and weekend weatherman — chuckled kindly, understanding. "Yeah, I didn't think you would be, but I was picking up warning signs all last week. It's a good thing they didn't know that Kim and I had actually been at the wedding, or I wouldn't have had a moment's peace, myself!"

Roxanne was genuinely surprised. "You mean you've been keeping it a secret? Jeeze, Ken, I know how much you like to have something to brag about. I pretty much figured you'd told everyone in the station everything the second you got back!"

Now, he laughed. "I was going to, Roxanne," he admitted. "I thought of a half-dozen ways to make everyone here green with envy, until I came in last Tuesday and had people pouncing on me, wanting to know if I'd heard the big news that had already leaked out about your wedding. I heard so many ridiculous things before I could even get a word in edgewise, I decided that maybe I should just keep my mouth shut, for a change. Once Kincaid has the official news air tonight, _then _I can start bragging about how _I_ got to go, and no one else from the station, except Marty Nowicki — who's been keeping his mouth shut, too, by the way."

She chuckled as they made their way down the quiet inner corridor to the boss's office. "I figured Marty would know better than to brag, but sometimes I have to wonder about _you_. You can be pretty terrible when it comes to gossiping."

He grinned. "Maybe, but I also like having special secrets that others can feel jealous about when they find out what I've been keeping under my hat. How's Big Blue taking to married life?"

Roxanne smiled secretively, thinking of what had happened before she'd left for work. "Like a fish to water. Y'know, I think that's why he likes you. You're one of the few people who doesn't call him 'little,' unless they're specifically talking about his head."

The weatherman snorted. "Hey, there're at least half a dozen people around KMCP alone whose heads are so swollen, they make Megamind's noggin, and his ego, look like positively small. Oh, Kim wanted me to ask if it's okay for us to call him by his real name now, outside of business. We weren't sure, and she's been thinking that it's about time he gets to be treated normally, that way. I have to agree."

"So do we. Let us get past the announcements to the press today, and then tomorrow, go right ahead. He'll always be Megamind as a superhero, and he likes it that way, but as the guy I married, he's very happy to just be Mykaal."

"Glad to hear it," Ken said approvingly as they reached the reception area outside the station manager's office. "It's always good to keep a clear line between work and the rest of your life. Sometimes, I think that was Wayne Scott's biggest problem. He was always on as Metro Man, Superhero, never just as Wayne Scott. It's probably what wound up making his powers short out on him; it was the only way to get the superhero to shut off."

Roxanne gave him a curious glance, surprised by the observation. She couldn't help but wonder if Wayne had said something to him, or if it was just Ken being his usual sharp self. "That's an interesting notion," she said innocently. "I'll have to ask Wayne about it, sometime."

Ken's smile was wide and bright. "You do that — and just remember whose idea it was, too!" That was a standing joke among the station's on-air talent, ever since the departure of a former colleague who had been notorious for asking everyone for opinions over lunch or during coffee breaks, and then presenting their answers as his own ideas when he used them during reports or interviews.

"Great, then I'll be sure to credit Kim," was her impish reply, also an old, comfortable joke between them. He gave her an encouraging thumbs-up before heading off to his own work.

Kincaid's executive assistant, Janya Bhandari, smiled as she saw Roxanne approach. "This is a red-letter day for KMCP," she said with sly cheerfulness, indicating the door to the boss's office with a nod of her head. "He's usually not on time for work unless there's some bigwig from the network in town, or the President himself, and he's _never _been here _early, _on the day after a holiday weekend! You've certainly shaken up the routine around here, Ms Ritchi — oh, I'm sorry, I mean Mrs..." She chuckled, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I don't know what name you'll be using from now on," she admitted, her cheeks flushing.

"No need to apologize," Roxanne assured her. "I haven't even told Mr. Kincaid, yet. And what I tell him I'm using on the air depends on how our meeting goes. Off-screen, it's going to be Mrs. Thejhan, but I won't get angry if people forget — at least for now."

Janya accepted the information with a thoughtful nod. "Thejhan," she repeated. "That's a nice name. It sounds a bit like my cousin, Tejal Mahajan. She's the director for the Metro City Performing Arts Fund."

The reporter's blue eyes widened with pleasant surprise. "I know, I've interviewed her twice, a lovely woman. _That's _why I thought Megamind's real name sounded sort of Hindi; I must've been half-remembering your cousin. Thanks for jogging my memory, Janya, I'll be sure to mention it to Megamind when we both get home."

"I'm glad to have helped, Ms — Mrs. Thejhan. The boss is ready for you," she added, tapping a flashing light on her intercom. "Go right on in, I've heard enough of him bellowing, 'Where _is _she!' this morning to last me for at _least_ a week."

Roxanne eyed the door with trepidation. "That bad, huh?"

"I've seen him worse," Janya promised in an attempt to be reassuring.

It helped a little. "Well, I guess putting it off will only make it worse. Wish me luck!"

The woman smiled. "Good luck — though I'm sure you won't need it."

Roxanne wished she could be so certain. She had a bad feeling about this, a feeling that had started down in the garage and had risen along with the elevator. She frowned at the darkly lacquered doors for a moment or three more, then decided she was just letting that gaggle of silly geese outside the elevators get to her. What could possibly be inside her boss's office that could be more terrifying than having some sicko crackpot try to abduct her, then molest her, then kill her, all inside of ten minutes on her wedding day?

Resolved, she marched up to the door, knocked, and headed straight in, as Janya had suggested. And then she saw the dragon hidden inside the lion's den.

Sitting ever-so-correctly in a comfy chair beside Kincaid's desk, sipping a cup of what was probably tea and tittering just so at some witty joke the station manager had made was Maybelle Duke. The fashionably coiffed and perfectly attired socialite was a fifty-something society maven who did weekly spots for KMCP concerning notable happenings and trends among the city's upper crust, and gave Metro City's poor, ignorant, ordinary residents advice on all the Proper Ways to do everything from brushing their teeth to picking the right private schools to mold their children into solid, snobby citizens.

Maybelle Duke, whose once-ravishing beauty queen looks may have seen better days, but whose opinions still determined just who and what would be considered acceptable in Metro City's society, just as they had for the past twenty years. Her claws and tongue would be forever sharp when it came to slicing and dicing and making mincemeat out of anyone of note who committed even the slightest faux pas, and to put in their place any common, undeserving riffraff who might dare to aspire to be counted among the region's truly outstanding and exclusive elite.

Maybelle Duke, who considered the exalted bloodlines of the world's most ancient and exalted royalty to be rather less prestigious than that of her award-winning pedigreed show poodle, never mind that she herself had been born Mabel Przybyszewski, the fourth daughter of a hard-working son of Polish immigrants in Hamtramck, Michigan, roots far more respectable than the wealthy family of robber barons she'd married into straight out of college.

Maybelle Duke, a woman whom Roxanne had long felt had ideas and attitudes that should've gone extinct with the dinosaurs, a woman with a nose that didn't know how to keep itself out of other people's business just so she could pass judgment upon it.

Maybelle Duke, a woman who had been blessed to attend all the "right" schools and belong to all the "right" country clubs, a woman who wielded power in all the "best" social circles, a woman of strong opinion and narrow mind who just happened to be the lifelong confidant and forever best friend of one Kathleen Caldwell-Ritchi — Roxanne's distant, demanding, domineering — and little-missed — mother.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: I would like to thank all my readers and reviewers for their patience with these larger than usual gaps between my postings. There is an excellent reason for it: I have finally discovered the cause of the pain that has been plaguing the muscles and joints of my right arm (and more recently my neck and left shoulder) since the beginning of the year. After six months of drug treatment for elevated cholesterol, I was struck by the nasty and terrible side-effect of statin drugs, the deterioration of muscle cells and tissue. I was fortunate that it didn't get any worse, and chose to first hit my weak spots, where I already had such conditions as tendinitis and bursitis. This discovery was made, strangely enough, on the anniversary of my father's death, which we now know was caused at least in part by this very same problem with statin drugs. Within a few days of stopping the drug, I saw noticeable improvement in the pain, and while it has not entirely healed and may require additional treatment and therapy, at least it's not getting worse, and I do have hope that I will recover, if not fully then at least to a much more tolerable state. So you may count on me to keep on writing, even if it isn't swiftly. For myself, I'm just glad to know that the cause for my pain was discovered before the damage became too severe._

_Thanks once more for all your patience and support. On with the story! (And oh, about the hateful Maybelle Duke: she's not in this chapter, but she'll be back...)_

* * *

><p>Chapter Three<p>

Elsewhere in the city, Megamind's first day back on the job was going somewhat less obnoxiously. As he and Minion had decided to use hoverbikes rather than the Invisible Car — it was easier to see what was happening on the streets from above the canyons of tall buildings rather than trapped between them on the restricted space of the roads — there was a certain necessary distance between him and the populace. From that vantage, it appeared as if all was normal.

At some of the schools over which Megamind passed, checking to make certain all was going well, the kids heading from cars and vans and buses toward the school buildings stopped to wave up at him. Their lack of fear brought a smile to the ex-villain's face. Even though he truly had no desire to father children of his own, he had come to enjoy the times when he gave talks at schools or to various kids' groups — so long as the youngsters were well-behaved, not the little hellions and bullies for whom he still held no love. To be able to positively influence so many young lives was very fulfilling, in its own way. If he hadn't been so powerfully drawn to his current life as an inventor and hero, he thought that he might have enjoyed being a teacher.

But maybe he didn't have the patience for it. Sometimes, he could tell that even Roxanne got a little annoyed with him when he expected her to understand and pick up things as fast as he did. He usually did try to make allowances for the fact that he _was _smarter than anyone else on the planet — and though he was learning not to be so boastful about it, it _was _the truth; he'd been given enough intelligence tests during his years in prison for that fact to be well established. He had nothing but admiration for Roxanne's own intelligence, especially her deductive reasoning that made her such a good reporter and sharp interviewer. But when he was fired up with enthusiasm over a new discovery or invention or idea, he forgot himself, and would babble on and on to her, not paying attention to the fact that she'd been trying to get him to slow down or clarify something until she started to get irritated by his behavior.

He was better these days, really he was, but some habits were hard to break, and Roxanne had told him time and again that his enthusiasm was something she loved about him. He had to learn how not to lose it while being considerate of others, and that particular combination seemed to be a formula he simply couldn't figure out. And if he couldn't manage that, he didn't see how he could manage being a teacher to anyone, child or adult.

That particular thought was flitting through his big head when he heard Minion's voice come crackling over the comm. "All's quiet on the north end of town, sir," the ichthyoid reported, his tone exceptionally cheerful. He really had been looking forward to today, and Megamind didn't blame him. Minion deserved better recognition than he'd given him over the years, and it was well past time that he started to get it.

"Same on the south," the blue hero answered, "with the exception of a traffic jam at Fifteenth and Lincoln."

"Trouble?" Minion almost sounded as if he wanted it to be so, just so he could get into some action, now that he was no longer merely his boss's sidekick.

Megamind had to fight not to laugh, and was only marginally successful. "Sorry, my piscine partner, the only action was between a garbage truck and the control box for the traffic lights. The police and the brainbots have everything under control — unless of course you want to experience first hand the heady excitement of conducting traffic during the morning rush."

"Ah..." Minion's enthusiasm audibly waned. "Nah, I think I'll give that a miss. I suppose we should be happy that the police _are_ taking care of it pretty much on their own. That way we can save our energy and resources for the _important _situations!"

As he neared their agreed upon rendezvous point over the major expressway interchange just to the east of the downtown and saw Minion rapidly approaching from the north, Megamind rolled his eyes in extravagant disgust at the notion of what the city's movers and shakers considered important. "Yes, like meeting with city pigwigs who no doubt still think they can dictate the terms of my parole."

"It's 'bigwigs,' sir," the fish said helpfully. He guided his hoverbike — the older and larger of the pair, with which he once saved Roxanne under the guise of his ward and on which he felt most comfortable — to idle alongside Megamind's, hovering well above the interchange and the news helicopters buzzing about to report on current traffic conditions. "And I don't think that your parole is still an issue. The governor's given you every pardon he can, you've paid all the restitution everyone's asked for, and the President promised he'll come through with whatever pardons are left to be made as soon as he can."

That comment drew an even more extreme reaction of disbelief from the ex-villain. "And we know just how fast 'soon' can be when it comes to the government. I'm not going to hold my breath until I turn pink in the face, waiting."

Minion's frown was one of worry, not irritation. "You're not exactly in a chipper mood today, sir. Is something wrong? Did you get another call from the Mayor, reminding you about the meeting this afternoon? Did you and Mrs. Roxanne have an argument?"

Megamind shook his head as a report from some of the brainbots out on street patrol came chittering over the comm, mentioning a situation on the far east side with a broken water main. There was no request for extra help, and if Wayne's advice about being Metro City's resident hero had taught Megamind one thing, it was prudence, the wisdom to assess a situation first and not jump to do every single thing other people — or even brainbots — asked of him. Since they hadn't been able to call on him for a full month, the genius was curious to see if there was any evidence of improved adaptation on their part.

"No, nothing like that," he assured his guardian as he indicated that they should head in the direction of the call, but not too hastily. "I guess it's just all that's happened over the last few months has gotten me to thinking about a lot of things I used to just ignore, if I thought of them at all."

Minion weighed the significance of his ward's comments. "Ooh, that does sound serious. What've you been talking about when I'm not around, sir? Moving the Lair? Hiring extra help? Quitting the hero business? Having—"

The piscine suddenly inflated like a puffer fish as he bit his lip on a shocking possibility. "Oh — _OH!_ Oh, sir, Mrs. Roxanne isn't — I mean, you're not going to be — that is, Mr. Wayne wasn't right about little Thejhans—!"

"No!" Megamind cut off his friend's panicking train of thought before his entire little body exploded. "No, she isn't, I'm not, and Wayne's wrong. But it's something we did talk about — Roxanne and I, not Wayne."

He let the noise of the bikes and the wind rush past them for a long minute. "Minion, how do _you _think I'd be as a father?"

His erstwhile henchfish was silent for such a long time, Megamind was sure he hadn't heard the question. Granted, having the comm system helped overcome the noise inherent in riding the hoverbikes, but sometimes, it wasn't enough. Yet when he turned to see if such was the case, he could tell that the ichthyoid had merely been thinking hard before speaking.

When he saw his blue boss glance in his direction, Minion cleared his throat. "Do you want my honest opinion?" he asked, something that he wouldn't have dared to ask not so many months ago.

The reformed villain snorted. "When have I ever _not_ wanted your honest opinion?" he asked with an indignant air.

Minion answered with a pure "get real" look. "Seriously? All the time, sir. Starting when you were about six months old and—"

Megamind revved his bike's engine just enough to drown out the beginning of the long, long litany. "All right, all right, point taken! I've been fairly remiss that way, but not now. I really _do_ want to know what you think."

The robot-assisted fish considered the request for a moment more, then decided to take the risk and give his friend what he'd asked for. "All right, then, here it is: To be perfectly honest, sir, I don't think you'd be very good. Not that I don't expect that you'd try as hard as you could, and for all I know you might turn out to be fantastic, but... well, let's face it. You grew up in an abnormal environment and didn't have the right kind of role models to learn from. I tried to take care of you as best I could, and I think I did an okay job in the long run, but this would be _so _different. You and Roxanne both love your work, you get irritated _way _too often when either of you are on a roll and anything interrupts it, and even the best nannies and daycare and everything in the world can't make up for the love and care of your parents. And it's just such a terrible risk if things _didn't _work out. It could wind up driving the two of you apart in _really _bad ways, and the kids would be stuck in the middle, and hurt by it. It's your decision, of course, both of you, but I can't help but feel that it's _not_ a good idea." From both his manner and his tone, he felt just awful, saying those words.

But to his relief, Megamind was not offended; if anything, he appeared even more relieved than Minion. "Oh, good, then it's _not _just me!" he said with an immense sigh. "Roxanne told me she felt the same way I did, that she doesn't really feel any urge to have children of her own and wants to focus on her career instead, but I was afraid she might've said that because she didn't want to pressure me into something I'd already said I didn't want."

The piscine's cringe became a crooked smile. "Sir, I may not know her quite as well as you do, but I think I know Mrs. Roxanne well enough to say that she wouldn't have lied about something she honestly wanted just to make you feel better — not something this important, anyway."

The ex-villain sighed again. "I know, you're right, she wouldn't. I just... I've heard so many things in the media about how much every woman wants children, how it's such a perfect, wonderful thing, how everything bad in your life just goes away when a baby enters the picture... If that's true, I couldn't imagine why Roxanne _wouldn't _want it, and it would be the most selfish, villainous thing I've ever done, asking her to give up such an incredible miracle because _I_ don't want it!"

Minion reached out and grabbed one edge of the cape that streamed behind his ward, tugging just enough to get his boss's attention as he slowed his bike to a hover. Megamind followed his lead and essentially stopped, the bikes now hovering high above the broad highways below. He looked toward his fishy friend with a querulous glance, confused.

Minion's amber eyes fixed him with his best dead-serious gaze. "I know what you're talking about, sir," he said, having stopped because he wanted to make sure his ward heard every single word he had to say. "I watch more TV and movies than you do, and I read magazines and go to Internet sites you don't. I've seen studies and statistics, and while those things you heard may be true for some people, for a lot of others, it's really just a fantasy, a fairy tale kind of perfection that never works out to be the way it's sold. Sensible people don't let other people sell them on a way to live their lives; they choose for themselves what's right."

Megamind nibbled on his lower lip in the way he did when he was feeling exceptionally unsure of himself. "But I'm _not_ very sensible! I tried to choose the right course for my life once before and I did a _terrible_ job of it...!"

The amber eyes rolled. "When you were _six_, Mykaal! _Everyone _makes bad choices when they're young — _I _made bad choices, too, letting you get away with this whole nonsense of believing you were destined to be Evil when I _knew_ it just wasn't so. But none of that matters, now. What matters is that you've learned from your mistakes, and you've been doing a lot better, thinking before acting. You made the right choice when you married Roxanne, and from what you've just told me, you showed a lot more sense than you used to when you talked with her about having children before it wound up being a moot point that you'd gotten around to discussing only when it was too late."

The genius's green eyes blinked with a strangely innocent wonder as his black-gloved fingers drummed on the bike's handgrips. "Really? I thought it was more like trying to get my own way."

The water inside Minion's habitat bubbled as he blew a singularly dismissive raspberry. "Pfffffft. The old you would've just done whatever you wanted, no matter what anyone else thought or felt about it. You wouldn't've talked about it unless it was to say, 'Oh, by the way, this is how things are going to be, so sorry if it messes up any plans you had.'"

Megamind's face turned an interesting shade of fuchsia as he winced, mortified. "I did that to you a lot, didn't I?"

But Minion truly wasn't bothered. "_Did_, as in past tense. If you do now, you usually catch yourself halfway, and then apologize. That makes a _huge _difference. For you and Roxanne to discuss this now was the right thing to do, and if not having children is what you want and it's the choice you made _together_, then it's right for both of you, and what other people say or think doesn't mean a thing. Recognizing your limitations and understanding what you want from your own life is being responsible, sir, not selfish. And anyone who tells you that you should or must do what _they've _decided is right for everyone — well, _they're_ the ones being selfish and irresponsible, not you!"

By the end of Minion's most emphatic little speech, Megamind's complexion had returned almost to its normal blue; he smiled faintly, sheepishly. "Roxanne said a lot of those same things," he admitted. "You're right, she wasn't just saying what she thought I wanted to hear, it's not her way. Will it bother _you, _though, Minion? You seem to get along so much better with children than I do."

His partner laughed. "Yes, when I don't have to take care of them or be responsible for them, day after day! I've already had that experience with you, sir, and to tell the truth, I was terrified that you two _would _decide you wanted kids and find a way to have them, and then I'd feel that my duty to you extended to them, for the rest of my life. At least when you were still a baby, you were living in a place where almost everything was locked away and people were watching everything — and you _still _managed to find ways to get into trouble! Trying to keep an eye on a baby in the Lair, and a baby that has you and Mrs. Roxanne for parents...! Oh, no, sir, I'm _glad_ you made this decision. I really do enjoy being able to help you with your work; I would've felt cheated out of what's left of _my_ life if I'd had to be responsible for looking after your children instead."

Under his broad studded collar, the hero's shoulders sagged. "And you would've done it, whether you liked it or not. I couldn't ask that of you, Minion, but I know that's what would've happened. I don't know who else we could've trusted as much as you. I wasn't just relieved for myself when Roxanne told me that she felt the same way I do. You've already sacrificed so much for me; it wouldn't've been fair to ask even more of you. You deserve a chance to choose whatever future _you_ want, the same as anyone else."

As abruptly as he'd wilted, Megamind perked up. "Do you think I'd be any good as a teacher?"

The sudden change of topic almost put a whiplash crick in Minion's robotic neck. As it was, his entire body spun inside the habitat dome, finally stopping to give his friend a startled look. "What, _now? _Isn't being the Defender of Metro City enough of a job for you?"

The ex-villain flapped one hand in a vigorous wave of dismissal. "No, no, not _now_, of course, there's still so much to be done for the city and all! But when I saw the children going to _shkool _today_,_ I thought that perhaps I could do something more for them someday — oh, I don't know when, maybe when I get too old to be a proper protector or something."

"And you thought about teaching," Minion deduced as they continued on toward the trouble spot the brainbots had reported. "I guess you could try, but I hear it's a _lot _of work, and can be pretty difficult if you don't have a ton of patience — no offense."

Megamind was remarkably equable. "None taken, I've already thought of that. I'm learning how to be more patient for Roxanne's sake, but she's just one person, and an exceptionally bright one at that. I don't know if I could ever learn to be patient enough for a whole classroom of children."

"Well, if you could manage it for a few at a time, you could always consider mentoring instead."

"Men_too_ring?" The word felt strange on the blue man's pink tongue.

"Mentoring," Minion repeated, deliberately emphasizing the correct pronunciation. "It's a more personal way of tutoring someone or taking them into a kind of apprenticeship. Mentors are usually experts in their fields who teach others what they know and help them develop their skills in an area of common interest, one on one. I could see you doing that — as a matter of fact, I already have."

The long blue face scrunched with furious thought. "When?" he wondered, bewildered.

"With Seth Morgan, the police rookie who wanted to learn how to do emergency field repairs for the brainbots. He was really interested in robotics and cybernetics, and all the time you gave him, showing him how certain things worked and how they could be fixed with limited time and resources, discussing it via emails, helping him when he got stuck and had problems, things like that — that's what a mentor does."

"It is?" Megamind sounded quite surprised. "But... that wasn't difficult at all, I actually enjoyed it!"

Minion nodded. "It wasn't difficult because you were both interested, Seth was a quick learner, and you got along very well. You may have enjoyed it, but you also helped him, a lot. He's now the best person on the whole MCPD force when it comes to making repairs on damaged brainbots in the field. The other officers call him their EBT — Emergency Brainbot Technician. And he got there because you mentored him when you had the time, and still do."

"I didn't know that's what I was doing," the ex-villain admitted. "And this sort of on-and-off teaching is something people want? Not just policemen who work with my equipment?"

"Sure, and not only adults, either. It's a kind of teaching where you aren't just thrown together with random kids in a school, or with whatever people signed up for a class. There's a lot of information about it on the Internet, sir, I can show you some of it when we have time."

The green eyes widened. "Really? How do you know so much about this men-tor-ing?" Megamind asked, very carefully imitating Minion's pronunciation.

Now, it was the ichthyoid's turn to be sheepish. "Because that's part of how I learned to cook and sew as well as I do. I learned the basics myself, but when I got interested in doing more, I started to write to people whose work I admired from reading books or seeing their programs on public television, and I asked them for advice."

"They didn't have a problem, corresponding with a fish with a criminal record?"

"Well... They didn't have a problem corresponding with Min Yung. I had to make up some sort of name, anyway — who would've taken a letter from someone named 'Minion' seriously? I did eventually tell the truth to the ones I became friends with, and they actually thought the whole thing was very amusing — as a criminal, I never really did more than aid and abet, and a lot of them could sympathize with that, for their own reasons. Now, I sometimes get people asking for _my_ help and advice."

"You do?" Megamind was genuinely shocked, though not angrily. "Just how much of a secret life do you _have_, Minion? I didn't know you had friends like that! Why didn't you ever tell me?"

The fish hesitated as they came close to the area from which the brainbots had signaled, slowing as they moved closer to the ground to see what was going on below. "Because I was afraid of upsetting you, sir. I was writing to these people for years before you gave up being evil; it started back when you decided you wanted to make one of the Lairs permanent, so you could work on building a place that felt like a home."

"That early? I don't think I was even eighteen, then!"

"I know, you weren't. You didn't have any friends of your own at the time, and I didn't want you to feel left out, like I was abandoning you. I'm sorry, I should've said something sooner..."

But the blue head shook. "No, it's okay, I understand. I would've been jealous of them and annoyed with you back then, I'm sure. I'm not complaining, I'm just surprised. You're a fish of remarkable depth, Minion — no pun intended."

His partner laughed. "Actually, I think my kind were more comfortable in rivers than in the oceans, sir, like piranhas or the open-water types of anglerfish. But thanks for the compliment."

"You're welcome. Good heavens, _what _is their problem?" Megamind's exasperated tone and expression was well-suited to the scene below, not to mention the mayday some of the brainbots had started to put out only moments ago. The intersection of two major surface streets below had turned into a small lake, due to the water main break, the site being at the bottom of two steep hills, and poor drainage in the aging infrastructure of the area. A number of DPW and emergency vehicles were already on the scene, working to fix the break, clear the storm drains, and handle rerouting the traffic. Not all of the cars had avoided the deep water; some had tried to drive through it and had gotten stuck with water now up to the very tops of their hoods.

A swarm of brainbots were assisting the rescue crews that were trying to get the stranded people safely out of their vehicles, but things didn't appear to be going quite as smoothly as they should have been. While the brainbots had been able to rescue the occupants of most of the stranded vehicles — carrying them to safety once they opened their windows and climbed out far enough for the bots to lift them away — one person in an expensive sportscar was refusing to abandon his vehicle or even open the window. Not only was the car at an especially low point, but it was near to where the main had broken, where the ground beneath the road was rapidly being eaten away. A sinkhole had formed and was still growing, and the sportscar was none too slowly being swallowed by it.

The brainbots were frantically trying to pull the car out or at least hold it up until a crane of some sort could be brought in to haul it out, but the bots had limited strength, and there wasn't sufficient room for enough of them to get a hold on the car to pull it above the water, which was pulling it down as more and more flooded into the car's interior. The driver inside was now panicking, as pressure against his door and window wouldn't let him open either to escape, the water inside was rising rapidly, and his earlier pigheaded refusal to let any of the bots break a window to get him out now made them reluctant to even try.

From the air, the situation looked very strange as the brainbots who couldn't help hold up the car were whizzing about in a panic, all their domes flashing and flaring with electrical agitation as they tried to think of a solution. Their answer was coming through to Megamind loud and clear: _Call Daddy!_

"Well, sir," Minion said as they headed down to intervene before the car sank, the person inside drowned, or the panicking brainbots flew into a total cyborg tizzy, "it looks like this might be the perfect chance to finally field test the new setting for your de-gun. It was a shame you didn't really get an opportunity during that last fight with the Terror Trio."

"Just what I was thinking," the ex-villain agreed. "But get your grappling lines ready, just in case."

Minion signaled his understanding of the plan with thumbs-up as they slowed their downward swoop to let the swarm of brainbots register their arrival. A lot of these were younger bots, without much experience in thinking creatively beyond their initial programming. The older bots that weren't trying to keep the car from sinking were doing their best to keep the panicking youngsters in line, but it was like a few mother hens attempting to do crowd control among a flock of a hundred frenzied chicks.

As the ichthyoid readied his bike's grappling line system for emergency deployment, he also flew on a course that did a better job of herding the frantic less-experienced brainbots out of the way. Neither he nor Megamind could really blame them for their reaction; the bots that were new to patrol duty were usually sent on the east side circuit because that part of town was the quietest, where the city dwindled into middle-class bedroom suburbs and open farmlands. There was less there to draw the interest of more serious criminal elements, and usually a busy day meant rounding up lost pets, changing a tire on some poor citizen's car, or contacting the police if something like a burglary or a stolen car should happen. The occasional kitchen fire was about the most panic the inexperienced bots could handle, and really, they had been doing okay with this current crisis, until the sinkhole had opened up right under the stubbornly stranded motorist.

Well, with any luck, the situation would quickly be resolved. As he brought his own hoverbike into position a good thirty feet above the sinking sportscar, Megamind drew his de-gun and flipped it to its newest, and still most experimental, setting: DEFY. Lining up a clear shot on the car's roof, he waited only until Minion was at the ready before taking aim and firing. A bolt of faintly greenish-blue lightning crackled from the weapon and enveloped the car, spreading from the part that the brainbots were managing to keep above the water to those parts below. For a few moments, nothing happened.

Then, the water that had been threatening to swallow the car and drown its occupant started to froth as the vehicle began to rise upward, defying gravity, an effect the new setting for the de-gun had been designed to create. It wasn't a swift rise — that had been one of the problems Megamind had encountered. The gravity defying effect had been too strong at first, and had had an unfortunate tendency to send its subject rocketing up so fast, a few holes had been punched through the Lair's living floor, through those ceilings, and up through the roof. That sudden upward motion and the collisions had also had an undesirable habit of demolishing the test subject, which had been completely inanimate and expendable objects until the problem was corrected.

Toning it down to get a nice, gentle lift, however, had made the effect more of an arrest than a rise, useful for doing things like catching a person falling from the top of a building or stopping a crashing plane before it hit the ground, not so good for allowing a person or an object trapped in something like quicksand or mud or even water to rise free of what was holding it down. And even when it worked, the effect was currently of erratic duration. It could last for ten hours or for ten seconds, the latter being annoyingly most common.

Happily, the effective weightlessness worked correctly this time. With only the weight of the water to contend with and not that of both vehicle and water combined, the brainbots already pulling at the sportscar were at last able to lift it free, the body gushing water out of all the openings through which the insides had been flooded. When it was clear of the accident-made pond, Minion directed the brainbots to hustle it to the nearest open pavement, before the effect wore off.

It did that precisely three seconds after the car had made it over dry, open ground. The sudden return of weight where there had been almost nothing a moment before yanked the car out of the brainbots' claws, and it hit the pavement with a loud, hard _thunk! _that blew all four tires.

As far as Megamind, Minion, the brainbots, and the various emergency services were concerned, it was a successful, gone-without-a-hitch rescue. As far as the dimwitted motorist was concerned, the only important thing was who was going to pay for the damaged tires, scratched paint, and other ruination inflicted on his poor, expensive car. A couple of officers steered the ranting guy away from the two heroes who'd just saved his life, one giving Minion a clear signal that they'd take care of it so that he could handle calming down the panicked brainbots while Megamind pondered the effectiveness of the new Defy setting.

"Hmm, well, the duration certainly needs to be improved," the genius reflected after they'd landed their bikes and dismounted, the wheels in his brain already hard at work on the potential solutions. "But overall, I'd call it a successful field test. What is it, Zap?" he asked the brainbot who was nudging his elbow, one of the older bots that acted as a trainer for those less experienced. Zap had gotten his name because of a glitch that had been fixed years ago, an imperfection in his original dome that allowed enough of the normally contained energy field within to leak out and give anyone who touched him a powerful static electric zap.

As one of the most experienced patrol bots, he'd been doing his best to keep order in the ranks, but the younger cyborgs had very nearly overwhelmed him. Now that things had calmed down again, he approached Daddy to get his attention, bowging for the blue hero to follow him toward one of the fire department's EMT vans, which was there as a precautionary measure. The back of the van was open as Zap led Megamind to it, and though there didn't appear to be any human injuries, one of the techs was seated on the open rear gate, holding a trembling and obviously distressed brainbot on his lap, as one might hold a frightened and distressed puppy.

Megamind recognized the bot as a very young one Roxanne had dubbed Puddles. A new addition to the Rescue Bot class, Puddles didn't actually leave little "gifts" behind him, but he was so nervous and excitable in his eagerness to please Daddy and Minion and now Mommy, he had a habit of both causing and getting into minor accidents of other kinds, reminding Roxanne of a puppy she'd once known.

When the ex-villain saw just which bot was being soothed by the EMT, he clicked his tongue in very gentle, amused scolding. "What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time, Puddles?" he asked. The young bot hunkered down, trying to do the impossible feat of literally making himself smaller in the man's lap.

The medic — a tall young man somewhere in his latter twenties with a head of thick, dark, curly hair and wire-rimmed glasses, Ben Epstein from his ID tag — smiled crookedly at the mention of the bot's name. "Nothing that was really his fault, sir," he told the city's defender, understanding the joke in the brainbot's name. "He was trying to help the others who were keeping that idiot's sportscar out of the sinkhole, but his arm got yanked loose when the car shifted and started to sink even deeper." He nodded toward the detached limb lying nearby inside the van. "I think it kinda traumatized the poor little guy, so the others brought him here to keep him out of the way while they kept working on the emergency. My training is medical, not robotics, so all I could think of to do to help was just keep him quiet until either the others were free or someone who knew what they were doing showed up to fix him."

Megamind chuckled as he waggled one finger at Puddles while he reached for the detached arm with his other hand. "Yes, and you wouldn't use this as an excuse to get some personal attention while the others worked, would you, Puddles?"

The bot gave a little bowg that was both pathetic and chagrined. "Oh, I wouldn't say that, sir," Ben defended the poor injured thing. "It must've been pretty traumatic, getting his arm pulled off...!"

"For some of the older brainbots, yes," the ex-villain agreed, gesturing for the medic to lift Puddles from his lap. "But Puddles is less than a year old, and I've incorporated some new features into the design for this class of bots." He held up the end of the arm that attached to the main body for Ben's perusal. "The coupling is designed to self-release if its tolerance limits are exceeded, so it doesn't cause any real damage. The attachment point—" He tapped the long, gloved fingers of his left hand to the pertinent area on Puddles' bottom. "—here, is designed to self-heal when the proper end of the arm is inserted. In an emergency situation, the bots might take an injured bot to safety if they can, but the emergency is always to take priority. Though I'm surprised Zap didn't do this himself after the crisis was over."

"The brainbot that brought you here?" Ben asked as Megamind checked the end of the detached arm to make sure there had been no secondary damage that might've prevented a successful reattachment. "I think he wanted to, but this little guy was too scared to leave my lap."

The hero snorted, recognizing Puddles' "I want special attention" tactics. "Or he saw me arrive with Minion and decided only one of us would do. You were waiting for Daddy or Uncle Minion to do this, weren't you, you naughty little cyborg?"

The tiny bowg Puddles let loose was so sheepish, it was plain that Megamind had nailed the situation. If the bot had been able to blush, shamefaced, he would have. But his maker only laughed softly, as did the medic. "Well, then, I suppose I can forgive you for it, this time," the alien said, putting emphasis on the last two words. "This was your first time out when there was a serious emergency. But don't expect to be _coodled_ like this again!"

The sound Puddles made was an obvious promise to be better behaved in the future. Megamind had Ben lift up the bot so he could clearly watch the reattachment procedure, and how simple it actually was. "In case this should come up again," he told the medic. "It won't work with the older bots or ones designed for heavier lifting, but all the brainbots with this configuration at the arm connection have this self-healing attachment feature."

"That's good to know," the younger man said with a nod as he memorized the appearance of the area Megamind indicated. "You know, sir, I've been thinking that since most of the emergency services are working with your brainbots quite a bit, these days, it might be a good idea to put together a little manual on basic first aid for the little guys. I know that Seth Morgan with MCPD has studied up to be something of a real specialist, but it wouldn't hurt for the rest of us to know a few of the simple things, like this, and have a manual to refer to. It could leave you and Minion and Seth free to take care of the more serious things, and let the bots with minor injuries get back on their feet — or whatever — quicker."

Megamind had been about to say that there were actually brainbots specifically programmed to render aid to other bots injured out in the field, but there weren't terribly many of them. The young man's suggestion could actually free them to take care of the more serious cyborg casualties. He nodded as he showed the medic the proper way the arm should be positioned before the coupling was reattached. "Yes, I think that's an excellent idea," he approved. "I'm not exactly sure when I could fit it into my _shedooal, _though, and we don't have our own equipment for publication..."

"You wouldn't need it, sir," Ben assured him. "It could be an electronic manual to begin with, and my dad's in the printing business. I'm sure he'd consider this a public service thing for the city and do it for free."

Megamind looked up at the tall fellow, grinning. "You've already asked him, haven't you?" When the medic blushed, he relented. "It's still a good idea, and we can arrange something when I've caught up with all the work that piled up while I was on vacation. Pay attention, now, this is really quite simple..."

Ben paid very close attention, noting the position of the arm and place on the brainbot where it would be connected. He watched the black-gloved hands deftly but not too quickly push the end of the metal arm against what turned out to be a covered slot, which automatically slid open as it detected the pressure of the proper substance in the proper shape bearing down on it. When the connector moved into position inside, other parts of the opening suddenly snapped into place, securing and reconnecting the arm, allowing for it to once again move and extend as it should.

Ben was startled by the force with which the thing sealed up. "Whoa, you'd have to be careful to keep your fingers out of there or they'd get bitten off, wouldn't they?"

But Megamind shook his head. "Nope. The sensors won't open for anything but the right alloy in the right shape, not unless that part of the system is deliberately shut down to allow access for other repairs and maintenance. Minion damaged a couple of fingertips and I ruined nearly a dozen pairs of work gloves while we were developing this."

The medic glanced at the alien's leather clad hands, wondering for a moment if a finger or two might be a bit short because of previous accidents. He saw that they were not, and also saw the glint of morning sunlight off silver metal on a non-studded, spikeless part of his left hand. He grinned.

"Ah, we heard that you and Ms Ritchi got married while you were out of town," he said, nodding toward the platinum wedding ring. "Congratulations! I hope it doesn't offend you, sir, but the guys and gals at Station Number Five had a betting pool going about how long it would take before you popped the question — and here it seems you went and did the whole nine yards inside of a month!"

Taken by surprise by the medic's comments, Megamind was both chagrined and proud; he couldn't help it. "I hope I didn't disappoint too many people," he joked, unable to contain his own sappy smile.

But Ben's grin only widened. "Oh, I'm sure some of the losers will be upset, but not me. I was the only one who was sure you'd ask before the end of the year, and that makes me the winner! Of course, I won't get to collect until there's been some kind of official announcement, but I can be patient. It's just good to know I was right. My girlfriend and I always thought the two of you would make a good couple. It wasn't hard to tell that under all the bickering and kidnapping, you really liked each other."

Now, the hero's cheeks purpled. "Really, was it obvious to everyone in the world but me?" he lamented. "What good is it, having a big brain if I can't use it to see past the end of my nose?"

The answering chuckle was sympathetic. "You know what they say, sir: love is blind. It can be hard for even the smartest person to see and understand what's right in front of him when his heart's blocking the view."

That reply was so unexpected and yet so simple, it rendered Megamind completely speechless for what seemed a very, very long time. He opened his mouth to say something, and when not even a squeak came out, he closed it, swallowed several times until his throat didn't feel as if he was scouring it from the inside with coarse sandpaper, then tried again. "I...never thought of it like that. I guess I was getting in my own way all along by pretending to be something I wasn't."

Ben shrugged. "Could be. You wouldn't be the first guy who did it — though you're not exactly the macho jock type who usually does. And so long as the two of you are happy now, it doesn't really matter how long it took to get here. I'm happy for you, and I'm sure everyone else at the station is, too."

Just then, Minion called for his boss to come join him over where a group of brainbots were getting into a squabble while attempting to repair the tires on the car they'd dropped. Ben was also summoned, to give first aid to the car's owner, who had deliberately kicked a fire hydrant during the course of his rantings and may have broken his foot. As they went their separate ways, Puddles following Daddy, Megamind paused to glance back at the medic, a sudden connection in his head turning on a light.

The brilliant green eyes turned to the hovering brainbot. "Did I just do _mentooring _again?" he wondered aloud, a little shocked and a little fascinated. That had been so easy...! He would have to ask Minion about it — maybe Roxanne, too, if she could make it to the City Council meeting that afternoon.

Megamind continued on, muttering to himself about this strange _mentooring _thing, and Puddles, good little bot that he was trying to be, could only follow obediently and answer his maker with his equivalent of a very confused shrug.

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Thanks once again to all who have read and reviewed and wished me well in my recovery from the statin-induced damage to my arm and shoulder. Things are continuing to improve, albeit still slowly, and I am hoping that with time and treatment, I will eventually regain the full use of my arm, without the screaming pain. For those who have been curious: Maybelle Duke and Kathleen Caldwell-Ritchi are both based upon women I have, sad to say, actually known, and known only too well. Truth is stranger than fiction, and in this case, the experience of having known these unpleasant women has had the pleasant side effect of providing good bad examples on which to base the characters._

* * *

><p>Chapter Four<p>

"Roxie, darling, how marvelous to see you again!"

Roxanne stopped on the threshold of Kincaid's office door, one hand still on the knob. Hearing that falsely cheerful voice, she remembered just why she hated that nickname, indeed, _any_ shortened version of her name. To her mother and her friends, she was Roxie; to her father and his buddies she was Rox at best, more often some other impersonal demeaning nickname like "girlie" or "my little princess" or "baby" and still other things she preferred to forget. It was why she allowed herself only a few small pet names for her blue beloved — a holdover from their early days as a couple, before he'd told her his real name and she just didn't feel quite right calling him "Megamind" all the time, not after he'd expressed his own dislike for short versions of that name. She was glad he preferred to call her Roxanne and in general didn't use nicknames or casual terms of endearment, having never been called such things in a positive way by family or friends as a child.

She was also annoyed to see the aging socialite. She'd gone through great pains to avoid running into her on the one day a week she was at the station, and in general had kept her distance, as Maybelle was a direct pipeline to her mother, only one that processed everything through filters of catty gossip and snobby judgment before passing them on. Maybelle hadn't tried to contact her in over two years — not coincidentally the same amount of time since Roxanne had last had any communication with her parents. She didn't need to be told what her parents thought of her choice of Megamind as a boyfriend, and she could well imagine how they'd react to the news that he was now legally their son-in-law.

Which frankly made her wonder why Maybelle was here now. It could be either to pass on her mother's opinions through cutting remarks and insults, or to collect info to distort and pass on to the woman who may have given birth to Roxanne, but had never showed her an ounce of affection, or respect. Either way, it wasn't for any purpose Roxanne would find pleasant.

And some people wondered why their children moved out as soon as they could and never looked back.

After some of the cracks she'd heard in the elevator lobby, Roxanne was in no mood to tolerate Maybelle Duke and her hate parade. "Sorry I can't say the same, Mabel," the reporter replied, refusing to use the woman's absurd affectation of roots in the genteel South. Her blue eyes flicked to her boss, icy. "I thought you wanted to talk with _me,_ Jack. What's she doing here?"

Kincaid — a tall man of average looks just shy of fifty with dark hair, silvering temples, and glasses that were a bit too hip for him to pull off — gave Roxanne the kind of smile that clearly communicated his own discomfort with the social diva. Before he could do more than get out an inarticulate, "Ah..." Maybelle piped up, loud and clear.

"My dear Roxie, why _shouldn't _I be here?" she asked with a smile that showed off too many teeth, too much whitening, and too little actual pleasantry. "I _am _the voice of Metro City society, and it's only natural that I be present for any meeting that concerns important doings among our fair city's elite—"

Roxanne was singularly unimpressed by the woman's self-important blathering. "Oh, stuff a sock in it, Mabel. You're here to dig dirt, find things to criticize about me and Megamind, and be a spy for my mother — who, by the way, hasn't said word one to me in over two years, so the only message I've got for her is to keep her opinions to herself and her nose out of my life."

Kincaid cleared his throat with a noise more like a nervous cough. "Now, now, Roxanne, calm down, you're making this sound like some kind of conspiracy! Mrs. Duke has a point about this being a good news item for her society report on Sunday. After all, Metro City only has one Defender..."

"And just _think_ of how much I could do for his image, dear," Maybelle added with an insincere smile. "Not to mention yours! After all, Roxie darling, the two of you did run off out of state to get married. Eloping is _always _considered a faux pas in polite society, especially when the groom has a significant criminal record and... well, we don't want to bring up things like interracial marriage, now, do we? You don't know just how appalled everyone with proper social graces was when we heard the news, and I can't tell you how it simply broke your poor mother's heart, discovering that her only child—"

"Don't even say it," Roxanne warned, already knowing what was coming. "For one thing, it would take a jackhammer to even put a crack in my mother's heart, and if she'd had her way, she would've traded me in for a medical school degree, if anyone had ever made the offer. If she's bothered by me getting married, it's because she couldn't find an angle to make it somehow profit her."

There were certain expressions that on certain people were charming, on others were amusing, and on still others were simply silly or outright ridiculous. And there were certain people who could take that same expression and somehow manage to twist it into something truly ugly and infuriating. When Maybelle rolled her steel gray eyes, there was nothing charming or amusing or silly about it, and Roxanne felt both her hands clenching with a desire to rip the look right off her botoxed, collagen-injected, nipped and tucked face.

"Oh, Roxie," Maybelle said, clucking as a hen might to scold an errant chick, "you aren't a mother, so you just don't know what you're saying! Why, your mother doesn't have a selfish bone in her body! She's always wanted what's best for you, and I must say, I can't understand how you can repay her by marrying a former felon and a — an alien!" She shuddered with plainly exaggerated disgust. "But far be it from me to argue with your choice! I'm sure I can persuade Kathleen to come around. It would help ever so much if you'd just be a smidge more cooperative."

Roxanne's snort was as deliberately rude and unladylike as she knew how to make it. "Cooperative? With what? Letting you take the most wonderful day of my life and warp it into something you and your idiotic social snobs find palatable?"

Maybelle's condescending smile didn't waver one bit. "Really, Roxie dear, I don't think you appreciate just how much damage control I could do for you, smoothing things over to make this whole sordid affair seem acceptable to all the best people in local society! Why, I could—"

That was all Roxanne could stomach. _"Sordid?"_ she spat back, the red flags of outrage now burning like wildfire across her face. "Why, you dried up old prune of a bitch! How _dare _you use a word like that describe something you know nothing about? There was _nothing_ sordid about our wedding, and there has _never_ been anything sordid about our relationship! Oh, I grant you, snobs who are all ego and no brain like you certainly made a normal life impossible for Mykaal for too many years, and I'm sorry to say that I didn't make things any easier for him."

Maybelle wrinkled her nose; Kincaid merely looked confused. "Michael? Who's Michael?"

Roxanne shook her head. "Not Michael, Jack; Mykaal. It's Megamind's real name. You didn't think his parents actually named him Megamind, did you?"

Her boss conceded the point with a shrug; the social diva made yet another condescending face. "Really, Roxie, do you swallow _everything_ this creature tells you? Just because he picked a name to sound more human and then couldn't even pronounce it correctly — how typical! — that doesn't change the fact that he isn't human. How do you know this is any more legitimate than all the other lies and scams he's pulled over the years?"

The reporter wasn't about to tell this piece of society slime about the incredible experience she'd had not even a year before, when she'd been privileged to "meet" her then-boyfriend's parents via a data recorder that had been sent with his escape pod. The memory of the two loving and lovely people who had gone to extraordinary lengths to save their son was not going to be dragged through the muck of this witch's scrutiny. "Because it's been part of my job for years, getting to the truth. Besides, if anyone has a right to judge him for what he did with his life when he wasn't left with any choices, it's me — and I've forgiven him, completely. He may not be like everyone else in this city — thank God! — but ever since he was given a chance to choose his path in life, he's proved to me time and again that under all his quirks and the supposedly evil bravado he put on to hide just how insecure he felt being an alien in a human world, he's a sweet, decent, creative, charming person who just wants to be recognized for who he really is, not what the rest of us made him."

She was on a roll, and there was no way either of the others were going to get in a single peep until she'd had her say. "And if you think for one second that I'm buying this crap about how you'll smooth the way for him into high society, then you need to get your nose out of the clouds and back down to earth, 'cause the lack of oxygen up there is eating away what little brains you've got left! I know damn well that you and your exclusive society crowd will _never _accept him, not really accept _him,_ not in a million years. You only want him beholden to you so you can use him as a smokescreen to hide your bigotry, just like you did when you let a few black people and other minorities into your exclusive clubs and restricted neighborhoods. Whatever news I have concerning my wedding is just that: news, for the news department, not fodder for the gossips like you to dig your catty claws into. And if you want this as an exclusive for KMCP, Jack, that's where it's going to stay: as news."

Maybelle now scowled outright, making no effort to hide her anger. "You can't tell him how to run his station...!"

Roxanne was unruffled. "And neither can you!" She leveled her best no-nonsense glare at her boss, the look that had been known to send chills up the spines of both supervillains and superheroes with astonishing effectiveness. "If she stays now, Jack, I go — and I'm not just talking out this door. It's up to you to decide which is more important to KMCP: a once-weekly fluff spot with an over-the-hill society bigot, or more exclusives and special interviews set up by the network's new star in-depth investigative reporter. Because if you side with her, I'm outta here. My contract is with the network, now, not with KMCP; I can fulfill its terms at any of our top-tier markets in the country. If I have to move to another affiliate to maintain my journalistic integrity, I will — and I know Megamind will go with me. He's already toyed with the idea of relocating to Milwaukee, because the people there treat him more nicely. So do you want to be the guy who not only lost his station's top reporter, but sent the entire city's hero and defender packing because he let himself be twisted around the finger of Maybelle Duke?"

Kincaid swallowed so hugely, it probably caused a significant drop in water pressure throughout the entire Great Lakes Basin. "Now, Roxanne, I can't believe you're serious...!"

"Believe it," she said flatly, even though she knew she was making presumptions about Megamind's reactions — well-educated ones, though; she knew her husband well enough to feel certain that he would follow her anywhere, if she felt compelled to leave. "If you want her to stay and take whatever I have for the news department and twist it into some kind of high society gossip garbage, then I'm taking the relocation clause in my contract and using it. Your choice."

The manager's second gulp was likely big enough to make the mighty Mississippi reverse course. His eyes flicked back and forth from Roxanne to Maybelle, clearly struggling with some terrible decision. The aging socialite returned his glance with eyes and a smile of pure ice, raising massive question marks in the reporter's head. What dirt did her mother's floozie of a flunkey have on her boss that made him so terrified of her?

Or, quite possibly, what dirt did her _mother _have on him?

Now, that was another possibility. The problem with Jack was that _someone_ had threatened him, either Maybelle or someone with whom she was connected; Roxanne had no trouble seeing it. She'd been working with Kincaid for over five years, and she knew quite well that the man wasn't easily manipulated, but she also seemed to recall him mentioning that he'd come from the Detroit area, like her mother and Maybelle. So what was Maybelle holding over him now as her virtual sword of Damocles, ready to eviscerate him unless he did as she asked?

In a sudden flash of understanding, Roxanne realized that she didn't need to know the specific answer. Right now, in this moment, it was immaterial. She didn't need to ferret out her boss's reason for acting so uncharacteristically submissive and uncertain, not this minute. She merely needed to play the trump card that would slam Maybelle's sword back into its sheath, at least for the time being.

Roxanne smiled, the look that Megamind had once called her "harmless cannibal about to eat your face" smile. "Tell you what, Jack," she said in her most casually dulcet, most supremely reasonable tones. "I've got a lot of other things I should be doing this morning, what with everything that piled up during my vacation. This whole bit with my wedding — it'll keep, it's not _really_ that important, when you stop to think about it. People get married every day, right? Maybe we can talk about this some time next week. Meanwhile, I've got some calls to make to the network brass, and there's a big meeting at City Hall this afternoon that I kinda promised Megamind I'd try to cover, since that _is _news. If you still want to talk today, just leave a message on my voice mail and I'll see what I can fit into my schedule. I'm sure if we set up a meeting after he's free of his own obligations for the day, my husband will be _very_ interested in coming, too."

From the way Maybelle's face suddenly went from smugly icy anger to bloodless, pale-faced shock, Roxanne knew she'd chosen exactly the right strategy. The woman wasn't the least bit interested in meeting with or even being in the same room as Megamind; she just wanted to be the one whose hands would be on the strings when the time came to manipulate him in the ways she wanted. And it would be a cold day in much more than just Hell, Michigan before Roxanne would let that happen.

She turned her carnivorous smile on the now unsmiling and fuming socialite. "As always, Mabel, I won't say it was a pleasure to see you again. And next time you talk to Mom, tell her to get a life of her own and keep her claws out of mine." And with that, Roxanne turned smartly on her heel and closed the door behind her in just short of a full-blown slam.

She was halfway to her own office, her mind in the midst of a furious debate over whether or not she should've dragged Megamind into this — she knew he would go along with anything she wanted to do, but it wasn't fair to him, expecting, even as a bluff, that he would uproot his entire life now that he'd gotten it on track, just because she had issues with Maybelle and her mother — when someone stepped in front of her in the otherwise quiet corridor, startling her.

"Oh, Janya!" she gasped out, relieved as she recognized Kincaid's secretary. "It's just you! I thought for a moment—" She swallowed the rest of the sentence, not wanting this sweet woman to think she was being compared to the harpy in their boss's office.

But Janya smiled wryly. "That I was Mrs. Duke, coming after you? No need to worry about that, Ms Ritchi, she's still in Mr. Kincaid's office, giving him an earful. I would've warned you about her sooner, but she must've slithered in before I started my shift. I told you that he came in early this morning. I'd heard that Mrs. Duke wanted to sit in on your meeting, but I didn't know she'd actually strong-armed him into allowing it."

Roxanne nodded her understanding. "It's not your fault, Janya. She obviously wanted this to be a complete surprise to me."

The secretary's expression darkened. "Yes, I'd say she did." Her dark eyes cast up and down the hall, that and her body language communicating a clear anxiety which Roxanne picked up on at once.

"Do you have a minute to come to my office?" she asked, adroitly suggesting what she suspected Janya feared to ask. Not surprising, since this was a place where any information could be pure gold, and people were not above eavesdropping. "There's some paperwork I need to start getting together, and I want to be sure I have all the right forms. I know you're more familiar with them than I am, since you used to be a union steward."

From the look of relief she was given as the woman nodded, she knew she'd hit the mark. "Of course, Ms Ritchi, I'd be happy to help. I'm sure Mr. Kincaid can spare me for a few minutes."

Roxanne's office wasn't far, though inside, it was a mess. She'd left it in the state of mind she'd been in when she'd last been at the station: pure angry chaos. She remembered that miserable day, when her former producer, Stewart Mitchell, had revealed his true colors in trying to force her to become his subservient little doxy by threatening her job. Like Maybelle, he had either forgotten or had never really known that her promotion moved her from being an employee of KMCP to one of their parent network, since they were the ones who had it in mind to groom her for national prominence. Memories of that whole truly sordid situation made her stomach lurch, but also clicked on a light in her mind.

When they were inside the small office with the door closed behind them, Roxanne felt free to speak, knowing that there were subtle protections in place, put there by Megamind not long after they had become a couple. At the time, she'd balked at the suggestion that such things would be needed, but they had since proved their worth by shielding her privacy, if nothing else. It also provided her with a secure bolt hole if she should ever need it, from which she could safely call for help, should someone dare to attack her. Although no one in station management knew for certain that these systems existed, those co-workers who were genuine friends to Roxanne had picked up on it or had been told outright, some sooner, some later. Janya was one, and thus her eager willingness to agree to come with her.

With the door closed, she was also more eager to speak first. "Before you say anything else, Ms Ritchi — or I think maybe I should be saying Mrs. Thejhan," she added with a soft smile.

The reporter returned it. "In here, it's just Roxanne. Out there, too, for all I care, but I know you like to keep a clear line between business and personal life."

"Just so. I want you to know that if I'd had any idea Mrs. Duke was actually in there, I would have warned you. I couldn't help but hear your conversation with the door wide open, and I think I know why all of this happened."

Now, all of Roxanne's curiosity was awake and itching to be sated. She leaned back against her desk, half-sitting on the edge to give Janya her undivided attention. "Oh?"

The secretary nodded. "You probably know how it is with executives: if you want to know anything about them, what they really think, what they've been up to, ask the secretary. We not only hear just about everything that goes on in their offices — whether we want to or not — we keep their correspondence, field a lot of their phone calls, arrange all their meetings and rendezvous, the works. Anyway, all of this goes back to when the station hired Stewart Mitchell, not quite three years ago. Mr. Kincaid wasn't all that thrilled with his work history and had really wanted to bring in Dominic Capazzo from our network affiliate in Toledo."

"I know his work," Roxanne said with approval. "He's good. Isn't he in Columbus, now?"

"Yes, he went there when we hired Mitchell instead. Kincaid had really been pushing for Capazzo, but the station owners insisted on Mitchell — or I should say Mr. Albright did. Mr. Cooper wanted Capazzo, but Albright was senior partner, so he got his way."

The blue eyes widened. "Mr. Albright picked Mitchell over Capazzo? Even before he showed his true colors, I knew Mitchell wasn't even in the same league! Was he out of his mind?"

Janya shrugged. "Maybe. Or his wife pushed him over the edge. I don't know all the specifics, but I do know that she was the one who insisted that Mitchell be hired, and Albright leaned on Kincaid to go along with it and make it look like he was behind the idea one hundred percent. And I know that when Mitchell went postal at your wedding reception and his crony Zaleski came forward and spilled his guts to the police, Lena Albright suddenly started having a lot of sob sessions with all her socialite friends. I don't know the particulars, but I do know that she used Kincaid's office while he was in meetings with the brass, and she had Mrs. Kincaid and Mrs. Duke in there with her. And twice, she had me get your mother on the line for her."

As she listened, something twisted unpleasantly in Roxanne's gut. "Why on earth would any of them care about Mitchell's life of crime coming out into the open? I would think they'd be _glad _it did! That man was trafficking in people who could've been their daughters and grand— oh, damn." The expletive was softly voiced, a sound of horrified realization rather than anger. "Janya, do you think he had snatched somebody they knew, like a family member? And having him put away would mean the end of trying to get her back?"

The secretary sighed. "I don't know for sure, but I strongly suspect something like that, yes. You and Megamind blowing his cover on your own may have put an end to whatever deal they were trying to make with him. From what bits and pieces I've picked up, it's the Albright's granddaughter who disappeared almost two years ago. She came home for Christmas break and vanished along the way back east to Vassar. They still haven't found her, but Mrs. Albright is convinced she's still alive and has kept funding the search for her."

"I remember that. Amelia was afraid of flying, so she drove back to school, and the last trace they found of her was a registration at a hotel in Pittsburgh. She vanished into thin air after that, car and all. I wanted to work on that story, but Jack gave it to Luke Elsen, since he had more experience working with the Eastern affiliates."

In her own way, Roxanne's mind went to work at light speed, seeking connections, thinking things through. Her eyes narrowed. "I also remember thinking that Megamind might be able to track her down, but I was told that this was out of his jurisdiction, a job for the FBI — and come to think of it, wasn't Mitchell Elsen's producer, back then?"

Janya's nod was both certain and uncomfortable. "The day we heard the news about all the shady things Mitchell's been up to over the past ten years was when Mrs. Albright started having her little ladies' meetings in Kincaid's office. I'm not a reporter, Ms Ritchi, but I'm not stupid. I have a sinking feeling that Mitchell was behind Amelia Albright's disappearance. I think he got the job here by calling in some kind of dirty favor that Lena Albright owed him, and when he wanted more and she couldn't talk her husband into giving him what he wanted, he grabbed their granddaughter. She couldn't expose him without exposing some dirty business of her own, so she kept up the front of continuing the search, which was probably just her paying off Mitchell to keep Amelia alive and unsold. And she didn't want Megamind coming into the picture because even though he'd changed sides, she was afraid he still had criminal connections that might finger all of them."

Roxanne didn't even try to question her deductions; they were right in line with her own. "And now, Maybelle and the other society women want to find something they can hold over my head to keep both me and Megamind out of it. But what does this have to do with my mother?"

Now, the secretary sighed and shook her head. "I don't know. They might have wanted to know what kind of pressure would work to get you to do what they want, or maybe they were looking for something from your past that they could use to blackmail you, threatening to tell Megamind about it if you didn't cooperate."

Roxanne didn't even have to think about it. "There isn't anything. We've had a lot of heart to heart talks, discussing just about everything except maybe our toilet training. If I was hiding any skeletons in my closet, I've brought 'em all out and paraded them in front of him for full inspection. He's done the same for me. I suppose there may be some minor things we've both forgotten, but there isn't anything they could use to blackmail me by threatening to tell him about it — not unless they plan to do a lot of outright lying."

"I hope that's the case. I just thought you should know, especially after what I just heard back in Kincaid's office. These women have their own kind of power, and if they think they're protecting someone, I wouldn't put anything past them to try anything to get their way. Maybelle Duke threw her own son under the bus, leaned on her husband to disown him after he married 'beneath his station.'"

"But old man Duke _didn't _disown him," Roxanne pointed out. "Randy and Tina are happy and have two kids and a nice house in East Metro."

"But they didn't get the kind of wedding gifts his brother Morty did just two years earlier — the big fancy house in North Bayside, the all-expenses paid honeymoon cruise around the world, the huge blow-out wedding reception at the Metro Country Club. Tina's parents had to pay for just about everything, and Randy covered the rest out of his own pocket. It sticks in Maybelle's craw that Randy's happy even without all the money and gifts she showers on Morty and his family, and with her being so close to your mother, you can just bet the two of them would do anything to punish you like Maybelle thinks she's punished Randy for marrying someone who isn't society."

Roxanne considered all this. She didn't honestly think her mother would care one whit about her marrying beneath her station, though she could easily imagine her caring about her marrying someone who could either make her look bad by association, or who would lessen her own perceived self-importance with his own real importance. It was strangely funny to think of that, especially given Megamind's apparently massive ego, but in his case, it was almost entirely a front hiding a very damaged sense of self-worth. Still, he was a genuine celebrity, and one of steadily growing renown.

It was entirely possible that her mother had issues with him on both fronts, disliking him for being an ex-con, which in her mind would somehow taint her, and hating him for having more real status than she ever would. She couldn't be happy that her daughter married such a man; she could only be either jealous or angry. Of that much, Roxanne was certain. Back when they had still been more or less talking to one another, her mother had hated the fact that Roxanne had been friends with Wayne Scott; when the rumors that they were dating had started, she'd grown to hate even _him._

Oh, yes, Roxanne could understand perfectly well why her mother would want to drive a permanent wedge between her and any man who threatened to eclipse her view of herself as the center of the universe. All it would take is one person approaching her, wanting to know about her famous son-in-law. But how and why would she be caught up in this convoluted situation that once again was connected to the now-incarcerated Stewart Mitchell?

"Thanks for all the info, Janya," she told her with an appreciative smile. "I don't know exactly how all the pieces of this puzzle actually fit together, but it's a big help to know that there _is _a puzzle. I hope being away from your desk for so long won't get you into trouble."

The younger woman chuckled impishly. "Oh, don't worry about that. All I have to do is say the words 'that time of the month' and Kincaid wouldn't care if I'd been gone for an hour. I don't know how the man can have a wife and four kids and still be _that _squeamish about it!"

Roxanne couldn't help but laugh. "I know, Megamind says he considers it one of the major proofs that Earth humans have a long way to go, in an evolutionary sense. Any _truly_ developed species would have evolved beyond that sort of totally gross bodily function a couple of million years ago."

Janya cocked one dark eyebrow, amused. "And I suppose he never uses the bathroom?"

The reporter rolled her eyes quite extravagantly. "Oh, we don't talk about _that_," she joked. More soberly, she amended, "Keep me posted, okay? I really want to believe that there isn't some sort of sick conspiracy going on, but my gut tells me this is going to get a lot messier before it gets straightened out. I hope I'm wrong, but..."

The secretary nodded. "I understand. Thanks for listening and not telling me I'm crazy. Working around here, I sometimes wonder if I can tell gossip from what's real, anymore."

Roxanne knew exactly how she felt. When Janya had gone and the door was closed, ensuring that the security and privacy measures were once again engaged, the reporter glanced at her watch, a smaller, subtler version of those Megamind and Minion used to communicate with each other, given to her shortly after she'd moved into the Lair so that she would have an untraceable means of getting in touch with her beau. She saw that there were still over three hours until the City Council meeting. She drummed the fingers of her other hand on the desktop, debating whether or not to get in touch with Megamind; thus far, she'd only used this direct link to him three times, all in fairly critical situations. She didn't know that this situation qualified — but then, she _had _gone and dragged him into it in her threat to leave the station and the city and take him with her. She could just picture Kincaid crumbling under Maybelle's attacks and trying to contact the city's defender to persuade him not to listen to his crazy wife.

Okay, that was enough to decide it. The last thing she needed was people from the station bugging poor Megamind with their lunacy on his first day back after what had been a very wonderful vacation. She tapped the button that looked like the clock set dial and waited for the face to flash, indicating a connection had been made. "Blue, are you there?" She could never be sure if she'd connect with him or Minion, and since she also had no idea who might be nearby to overhear, she'd settled on using the code of his childhood name rather than the other nicknames he disliked or the terms of endearment that might embarrass him under the wrong circumstances. God, she'd be glad once they'd made all their announcements to the general public, which included revealing his real name, since she had decided she wanted to use his family name for at least her off-camera surname. And it was about time that he had the chance to feel like a normal person, with a normal personal name all his own.

She was relieved to hear Megamind's cheerful voice respond almost instantly, slightly distorted by the sound of rushing wind. "I'm here, Roxanne — what's wrong?" It was amazing, how fast he could shift gears from delight to worry.

"Are you free to talk?" She really didn't want to discuss this if he was out in public.

"Perfectly free, in about two minutes," came the certain reply. "The morning patrol went smoothly, even with a major water main break on the east side. The city's emergency services seem to have most everything in hand with the brainbots' help, so Minion and I are heading back to the Lair to do some adjustments to the new de-gun setting — we finally had a decent chance to field test it! I also want to get started on his new cybersuit. Do you need me somewhere else?"

For a moment, Roxanne considered her options. "No, I think I'm going to come home for this. I don't feel like staying here right now, and there're some personal things I need to discuss with you before that council meeting this afternoon."

She could hear the big green eyes blink. "Personal things? This isn't about children again, is it? You haven't changed your mind...?"

She smiled, able to understand where he was coming from, and sympathize. It was very difficult to convince some people that she simply had no inclination to be a mother; they seemed to have the skewed notion that the only reason a woman would or should want to marry was to start popping out babies. She knew that a lot of her new husband's ideas about such matters were heavily influenced by the media, and it was difficult to explain to him how those things he saw were often distortions intended to sell a way of life that would in turn sell products, everything from hugely expensive weddings to cheap disposable diapers. It was a kind of villainy that he'd never considered simply because he didn't think that way. And it was likely he would never understand how much this endeared him to her, that he didn't view _her_ work as a part of the basically parasitic profession journalism had become in recent years, as even the news agencies became less and less the voice of free speech and more and more the tool of corporations seeking obscene profit at the expense of human dignity and even human life.

She sighed softly as she replied. "No, sweetie, I haven't changed my mind. But something came up during what was supposed to be my meeting with the station manager, and I need to get your input before I make a final decision on what to do next — really, this is another thing we need to decide together. Do you think you can fit me into your busy schedule before the council meeting?"

Now, she could hear Megamind's mischievous smirk. "Oh, I think I can squeeze you in," he said with a distinct leer. "Do you want me to pick you up? I'm almost to the Lair, but I'm on my hoverbike, so it won't take more than a minute or so."

"No, I—" Roxanne began, only to stop when she saw a flashing light from the vicinity of her computer. It had been standard-issue for anyone in KMCP's news department, but when he'd made the modifications to her office, Megamind had also placed hidden monitoring devices in her car and around its parking slot in the underground garage, to give warning of any would-be attackers lying in wait, or anyone attempting to tamper with her car. This was another thing she'd considered exceptionally paranoid, until a number of attempts had been made to place tracking devices on the Corvette so that it could be followed back to the Lair, whether it was in stealth mode or not. Those instances had been enough to get Metro Media to beef up security around the garage, and things on that front had been quiet, ever since.

But the warning light was flashing now, derailing Roxanne's about-to-be-made claim that she'd have no problem getting away. "Hold on a sec, hon," she told Megamind as she flicked the switch on the surveillance device that would show what was happening on her computer's screen. Sure enough, the tiny infrared equipped, self-powered cameras he'd hidden in the garage ceiling to give a clear view of both Roxanne's car and any approaches to it or hiding spots nearby revealed the unwelcome sight of Maybelle Duke, brazenly leaning against the Corvette, arms crossed and teeth clenched like those of a sentry hound barring the gates of Hell to those who would think to escape it.

Roxanne groaned, fortunately not loud enough for Megamind to catch it. "On second thought, why don't you come by and pick me up on Metro Media's roof? It seems that someone I don't want to talk to is staking out my car so I couldn't miss her if I wanted."

This time, she could picture the fiercely protective scowl on her hero's blue face. "A stalker? What _is_ it with that place? First Hal, then Mitchell, now... a woman?" Megamind sounded both appalled and rather squicked to think of a woman tailing her, given the salacious nature of Roxanne's first two stalkers.

She chuckled. "It's not like that, it's just the station's snob-in-residence, Maybelle Duke, and I do _not _want to talk to that old biddy. I'll explain everything at home, not here. I want to be some place for while where I won't feel like people are watching every move I make. I'll be up in five minutes, okay?"

The scowl hadn't entirely left Megamind's voice. "All right — though I'm beginning to think KMCP isn't the best place for you to be working, Roxanne. They obviously have a _terrible_ screening process for new employees, and their security is _obaminooble!"_

Roxanne had to admit, she'd grown rather fond of the ex-villain's miles-wide protective streak, since these days, it encompassed more than herself — though being its center and point of greatest focus and concern wasn't as bad as she used to think. It had _never _felt this way when she was forever being rescued by Metro Man; his heroic style was more about him than about her, which might well have explained why she'd never felt the least bit of romantic attraction to him.

Wayne's ego didn't really leave room to allow for others to feel special in his presence — he went so far overboard with doing everything for others, his protection felt more like smothering — whereas even when he'd been kidnapping her, bragging and posturing and screaming for attention, Megamind had always somehow placed her on a pedestal that was strangely subtle, even when he was in her face. It went contrary to everything a spirited and independent modern woman was supposed to want from a guy, but until she'd experienced it with full knowledge of the affection that motivated it, she hadn't known how good it could feel. There was a distinct difference between being considered a helpless victim in need of protection and being thought of as someone strong who was deeply cherished and thus was protected as the utterly precious being they were.

"I've been thinking along the same lines," she confessed without regret. "It's part of what we need to talk about. If I'm not up on the roof in five minutes, you have my full permission to send in as many brainbots as you want to get me out of here."

His answer was dead serious. "If you're not there in five minutes, _I'm _coming in to get you — _with _every brainbot within five miles of the station!"

She laughed, and prepared herself to run the gauntlet through the outer reception area. With any luck, she would make it to the elevator without causing another scene — though she half-hoped that there _was _another ruckus, just so Megamind could come storming in with the brainbot brigade and give that nosy gaggle of women from the clerical staff a little sweet payback.

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Thanks as always to my lovely readers and reviewers; you do keep me rolling along! My arm is continuing to improve, though the exhaustion that was part of the bad side-effect is being a little less eager to go away. Ah, well, some improvement is better than no improvement! In this chapter, my Muse Dementia decided to pull one of her infamous surprises on me, taking the story in a direction I hadn't really planned to go. But I think that it will prove to be interesting, in the long run. I hope others agree. Enjoy!_

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><p>Chapter Five<p>

Roxanne was almost disappointed when she was able to make it up to the roof, on time and without incident. Her timing, in fact, was so good that she arrived just as Megamind was about to get off the hoverbike, thus sparing him even a few anxious minutes, wondering if she was in the process of getting into trouble. The bike he was using was the slightly smaller and sleeker version of his original bike, even more wicked in appearance and equipped with such niceties as a fairing and full sight and sound stealth mode. As he'd designed and constructed it since he and Roxanne had begun to build a post-kidnapping relationship, he had taken into account that he might sometimes be carrying her as a passenger, and thus there was room enough for her to sit comfortably — if very closely — behind him.

She wasted no time getting on, since she could see that Megamind's arrival had piqued the interest of the crew on the helipad, where the station's traffic copter had just recently returned following the morning newscasts. The ex-villain had seen their notice, too, and thus once they were airborne, he immediately thumbed the switch that would engage the full stealth mode, making them completely invisible and inaudible. After the field had engaged, Roxanne could see the disappointment on the crew's faces, the looks of fishermen lamenting the big one that just got away. Relieved to know that they wouldn't be followed, she tightened her arms around her husband and snuggled a bit closer, smiling to see the pleased look on his face, reflected in the cleverly placed, aerodynamically designed rearview mirrors.

They landed back at the Lair in the formerly fake observatory dome, which had been completely finished and converted to a landing pad and hangar for the hoverbikes not long after Megamind had turned from villain to hero. He'd realized how foolish he'd been, leaving the dome looking totally makeshift and unfinished, allowing Roxanne to use it to locate the then Evil Lair, and he didn't want others making that same connection. So once his financial assets had been unfrozen, he'd made the dome into a proper-looking, fully finished observatory atop the very sturdy and long abandoned power station he called home.

On the records, the building and grounds, formerly owned by the Greater Metro Power and Light Company, now belonged to a private group called the Lake Michigan Sky Watchers Society. The former villain had gone to great lengths to make the group appear quite real to anyone interested in researching it. Inquiries would show that it appeared to be a society formed by a bunch of kooks intent on watching the skies for UFOs and signs of extraterrestrial life, taking as their credo the line about watching the skies from the classic sci-fi movie _The Thing._

When he'd first explained the whole cover to Roxanne, she'd doubted that it would actually work to protect the secrecy of the Lair's location; she thought it would be like putting out a neon sign screaming "here it is." But to her surprise, it worked quite well. The bogus alien-watcher group had so much information and so many red herrings on its websites — sites, as in seven, one for each of its "members" — that if even the most savvy investigator attempted to follow the labyrinth, they would eventually find themselves directed to a real group in Arizona calling itself the Sky Watchers.

This particular bunch of alien/government coverup addicts would happily claim to be the legitimate source of _all_ such groups around the world, whether they were actually affiliated with it or not. The Lake Michigan society, they said, was a small and reclusive group that actually spent most of its time in the Upper Peninsula and Canada, where there was less light pollution. The observatory was usually automated and only manned on rare occasion, but its site was considered significant, since the city already had not one but three genuine resident aliens. Those specifics came from the bogus info Megamind had deliberately put out there, and he'd been delighted when the overeager goofballs in Arizona had snapped it up like a rare delicacy on a fishhook.

Now that both hoverbikes and many of the brainbots were equipped with stealth modes, coming and going from the Lair by air was much easier. A holographic disguise on the dome made it appear to have the scope in a fixed position, protruding from the otherwise sealed dome. The invisible flying vehicles and bots were able to go in and out, undetected. To get home, the visible bots now used tunnels that were accessed via the various back-up Lairs that Megamind had acquired years before to make sure Metro Man never found the site he had been partially converting into a permanent residence.

Once they were inside, the bike parked, and themselves heading for the lift that would take them back to the lower levels, Roxanne finally allowed herself to relax. The huge sigh she released brought a worried frown to Megamind's face. "This sounds fairly serious," he noted. "Am I going to need to have the brainbots locate Mrs. Duke and follow her wherever she goes?"

"I don't think so," the reporter said with a much smaller sigh, leaning against her husband as the platform carried them down. Under the circumstances, she wouldn't have cared if he'd been bristling with full-sized spikes. "I can't believe she'd actually try to hurt me, but you know what an unrelenting nag she can be."

She explained what had happened in Kincaid's office as the lift stopped at the level of the half-floor that held the living quarters. They went across the short suspended walkway that connected the freight elevator to what had once been the power plant's main offices, staff lounges, cafeteria, and supply rooms. "I just didn't want to bring out any of the stuff we selected for the news department with her there," she concluded as they entered the actual living area. "Jack wouldn't send her away, so I threatened to leave KMCP and relocate to another affiliate if he insisted on keeping her involved. I don't actually want to, but if I have to carry through..."

Megamind understood. "Where would you go? I don't suppose you can force another affiliate to take you. But what about Milwaukee? I liked it there, and their people really seemed to enjoy working with you. They may not have the criminal issues that Metrocity does, but they have some very notable high-tech labs and light industries. If I didn't have enough work as a hero to keep me busy there, I could spend a lot more of my time in research and development of my own designs, and Minion would still have all his connections with the ichthyological and domestic science societies, just new chapters..."

Deep down, Roxanne had known he wouldn't argue with her, but his easy acceptance warmed her. "I'm glad to hear it," she admitted. "I didn't like making the bluff without consulting you first, but I knew that if push came to shove, I'd have to be prepared to make good on the threat or it would mean nothing. Thanks for be willing to stand behind me, sweetie. I feel a lot better, this way."

"I would follow you anywhere you feel you need to go," the blue hero told her in all sincerity. "That's part of what I promised when we got married, to support you no matter what, and I'm not going back on my promises, ever." He made a wry face. "Of course, it would be _inconvenient,_ trying to relocate..."

She kissed his cheek. "I know, and I don't really _want _to leave. But you know how it goes, it's the same in both the hero and villain business. If you make a threat, you have to be prepared to actually do it. I don't think it'll come down to that — at least I hope not. Kincaid's secretary—"

"Executive assistant," Megamind corrected as they entered the kitchen, looking for something to slake their thirst. The hoverbikes were exhilarating to ride, but tended to dry out one's face and throat after a long flight, and Roxanne often felt the need of throat lubrication after an angry rant. "Minion's told me that that's the preferred job description, mere 'secretary' is considered demeaning."

Roxanne blinked, then laughed softly to have _him_ of all people correcting her terminology. _Touché,_ she thought, amused. "You're right, it is, and I stand corrected. Kincaid's executive assistant—"

"Janya Bhandari?"

Again, the blue eyes blinked. "You remembered? I thought you've only met her once or twice."

"Seven, at various parties and such. I have an excellent memory, of course, and I always thought she was one of the nicer and more intelligent people working at KMCP. She'd make a better reporter than that Cleo _bimboo _and some of the others they keep trotting out, trying to replace you." He snorted. "As if."

Roxanne considered the idea. "I think she would, too, but let's save that for another discussion. After I gave Jack my ultimatum, Janya caught up with me, and once we were in my office, she told me a lot of things I hadn't known about Maybelle and her cronies."

Megamind smiled smugly as he filled a glass with chilled water while Roxanne went for coffee. "And my amazing foresight in securing your office at the station proves itself once again!"

She sniffed, amused. "Yeah, well, don't let your head get any bigger over it. There's some funny business going on with Mable and the women in her society snobbery circle, things that connect them with Stewart Mitchell, of all people."

He frowned. "What, were they afraid he might have had a client with a request for _weezened _old women with too much attitude and not enough brains?"

Roxanne shook her head. "No, they seem to be upset that he's been exposed and is behind bars. From things Janya's heard, she thinks that Mitchell grabbed Lena Albright's granddaughter and was holding her captive with the threat of selling her off if the Albrights didn't cooperate with him. Amelia Albright—"

"O'Connell," the blue hero interrupted.

"What?"

"Not Amelia Albright; Amelia O'Connell. She's been married for almost two years, after all."

Whatever thought processes had been moving in the reporter's brain stopped dead at that revelation. She tried to make things connect and start up again, unsuccessfully. Finally, she favored her husband with a confused and suspicious look. "Okay, what _are _you talking about?"

Megamind sighed, taking a seat on one of the tall stools at the kitchen's prep island. "I swore I would never tell anyone, and I've been very good about keeping that promise, but... well, we're married, now, and I just don't feel right about keeping secrets from you. But please, you can't tell anyone else, all right?"

Since confidentiality could be very important in her business, Roxanne had no trouble agreeing. For a few moments, she felt the bubble of nascent anger at Megamind keeping secrets from her, but it died when she considered that he was now telling her because she was his wife, that his work inevitably would include such things, just as hers did, and he was demonstrating great trust and faith in her. When she nodded her consent, he continued.

"I know that the police said I should stay out of the investigation, since I was new to being a good guy and the whole thing should be left to the FBI, but I knew what the statistics are for missing young women, and how the longer it takes to find them, the more likely it is that they'll turn up dead. I didn't want something like that to happen to someone from my city so soon after I became its defender, so I did some quiet investigating of my own, using the brainbots and some tracking tech of mine that the FBI would drool to have at their disposal. The bots picked up her trail at that hotel in Pittsburgh and followed it, first to a small town just over the border in Maryland, then to Charlotte, North Carolina."

He drained half his glass before continuing. "They found her there, and I talked with her via the brainbot who found her. It's strange, I'd thought she wouldn't want to say anything at all to me, but it seems she thought I might understand how she felt, seeing how I'd been stuck in this unrequited, forbidden love thing with you for so many years."

Roxanne chuckled. "Yet another person who saw what we didn't, huh?"

He surrendered to that unavoidable truth. "Exactly. She told me everything. She wasn't abducted; she'd gone off and eloped, got married to a Justin O'Connell, the son of a banker her father and grandfather had done business with. The whole story is rather complicated, started with them meeting at some party his parents had thrown for certain clients, they started to see each other while she was at school, etcetera. When her grandfather had a major falling out with the O'Connell firm, he cut off all business and social ties to them and forbad anyone else in the family from having dealings with them. Amelia's father knew he'd be disinherited if he didn't toe the line, so he ordered her to never see Justin again. She was heartbroken at first — and then she got angry at all of them for trying to run her life. She kept seeing him anyway while she was at school, and when she went home for Christmas that year, her mother and grandmother started pushing other boys at her, all the well-connected upper-crust sort of idiots they could find."

He sighed expansively. "Well, she wasn't going to stand for that, and since she'd turned twenty-one just after Christmas, she and Justin decided to go off at the earliest opportunity, get married, and then disappear so her family wouldn't come after her. I tried to tell her that there wasn't anything her parents _could_ do, since she was an adult and free to choose her own life, but she felt her family would make her life a living hell if they had any idea where she was. So I promised I wouldn't tell anyone what I knew. She _does _have the right to live her life as she wants; she isn't a doll for her parents and grandparents to do with as they please. I did tell her that if major authorities like the FBI or CIA asked me direct questions about any knowledge I might have concerning her disappearance, I would have to tell them the truth or risk being sent back to prison. Otherwise, I'd keep her secret for her. Really, she's a nice girl, very pleasant and intelligent, and if she loved this O'Connell fellow and married him of her own free will..."

He shrugged, a pensive frown creasing his considerable brow. "I imagined other people pressuring you the way her family was pressuring her, to get involved with the 'right' kind of man instead of the person she loved. I wouldn't want some people telling you that I was no good for you and other people strong-arming you to keep you away from me. If I didn't want that for myself, I couldn't be a part of someone doing it to her. Do you understand? I didn't want to keep secrets from you, but I did give her my word."

Any hints of upset Roxanne had been feeling were completely gone, now. "I know, and I do understand. These society types think they own their children, and they use them for their own ends, never thinking about how the child feels or what they want, even as adults. My parents did that to me, in their own ways. But if Mitchell never _did_ abduct Amelia Albright — sorry, O'Connell — then why did Mrs. Albright get upset when Mitchell got arrested at our wedding reception, and his flunkie came forward a few days later and spilled the beans on all his illegal activities? Janya was pretty certain that there's a connection between Mitchell and Lena Albright."

"I can't say what their original connection might be," Megamind said after taking another long drink of the cool water, "but I suspect that when Amelia disappeared and remained out of touch with her family, Mitchell claimed to have her just to use it as leverage with the Albrights. They kept up the search because if they didn't, it would make them look heartless, especially since they controlled all the family assets, but I'm willing to wager that the money Lena Albright was spending to fund the non-existent search was going to Mitchell, to keep him from selling their granddaughter to the highest bidder. Lena didn't know he couldn't sell her because he didn't know where she was, either."

Roxanne had no trouble seeing that as a likely chain of events. "Okay, that makes sense — and her turning to Maybelle Duke and even Jack Kincaid's wife for support does fit; these people always turn to their social cronies and connections when they're in a jam. With Mitchell in prison and his shady dealings exposed, they'd be scrambling to find some way to find Amelia; Mitchell no doubt told them that if anything ever happened to him, she'd be sold at once."

The blue genius sniffed. "Well, that's _not_ going to happen. It might actually be amusing, watching to see what they do now, since they haven't come anywhere _near_ actually locating Amelia."

"Maybe. But I still don't understand what my mother has to do with any of this."

It was Megamind's turn to blink in surprise. "Your mother?" he echoed. "You didn't say anything about _her. _Was she in the office with Marble?"

Roxanne didn't bother to correct him, since she knew he thought the woman had a brain of about that size, and a thick head made of said substance. "No, but Janya said Lena Albright had her call my mother for her, more than once during these meetings she's been having with the other local society women, using Kincaid's office. She thinks that they might've been asking Mom for some kind of dirt that they can use to manipulate me by threatening to expose it to you."

The green eyes blinked again before the blue face around them melted into a broad, impish smile. "Oh, these people really _are _idiots! I'm an ex-con and an alien. What do they think _you_ could possibly have done that would be so bad that _I_ wouldn't forgive you for it?"

She smiled crookedly. "What if they told you I'd been in a _very _serious relationship before, and had been engaged to the guy?"

He shrugged it off. "I'd say that whoever he was, he was a fool to let you go."

"Okay, so what if they told you it had been more than just an engagement, that I'd actually married the guy, then divorced him?"

"Again, I'd say he was a fool — an even bigger one, since he already had you and still let you go."

"What if they told you he left me because I'd been a slut and cheated on him?"

"I would never believe it. And even if you _had_ done that, I'd say you've changed a lot since then, you'd seen the error of your ways, and cleaned up your act. Like me."

"But what if they say I haven't, not really, that I've been running around behind _your_ back and seeing other men?"

He smirked. "Now I _know_ you're just making this up to see how I'll react! You know that the brainbots out on patrol keep an eye on you as much as they can, to make sure nobody tries to kidnap you or hurt you. If you were sneaking off to meet with other men, I would've seen something by now — but no, not a hint."

She conceded the point. "But _they_ don't know that. I suspect some of them have cheating husbands, or are cheating on their husbands themselves. These are the kinds of lies they might make up to hurt us and make us distrust each other, because for them, they're true, all too often."

"Never," Megamind said with utter conviction. "Even when you _have _hurt me, it never lessened my trust in you. I love you, Roxanne. No matter what you do, even if you did go behind my back and see other men, no matter how much it might hurt, I am _always_ going to love you. It's... just the way I am."

The way he said it, the way he looked — as if just hearing such speculations hurt, but his sincere devotion to her remained intact — Roxanne felt her own heart break a little. She immediately went and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight until she could feel the crack in her heart fuse and heal again. "And people call _you_ inhuman," she sighed, sniffing back the tears that had threatened to fill her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mykaal, none of those things I said were true, they never will be."

He returned the embrace with such gentle ferocity, she knew that he understood. "I didn't think they were — and I don't want you to think that _I_ could think they _would_ be true, whatever _they_ think!"

Roxanne couldn't help the small laugh that rose up at his emphatic babbling. "I don't," she assured him. "But these women don't know a thing about trusting someone so much that you're willing to bare your soul to them. They don't understand what it means to really love somebody else because they don't love anyone, not even themselves. They are spiteful, mean, and vindictive, and they'll do anything they think they need to do to get their way. Lying is their most common weapon of choice. They'll spread rumors, as cruel and unjust as they can make them, just to try to hurt people, and they may start doing it to both of us if they think we're getting in their way."

Megamind leaned back just far enough to look her squarely in the eyes. "Is there anything about _me _that they could say to hurt you, enough to turn against me?"

She was blunt. "Do _you _think there is?"

He was silent for a minute, pondering not only the question but the woman he had married. Had he told her everything he should? He thought he had, but maybe he just wasn't looking at things from her perspective, and if he did, maybe some things would take on a completely different meaning, and—

He finally shook his head, firmly. "No. I've told you every truly awful thing there is to tell, and I suspect that they don't have enough of an imagination to think of some of them, much less come up with some lie that's even worse. If I keep trying to examine every little bit of my past, looking for problems, I'm going to start making mountains out of mule hills. That's what they would want, isn't it? For us to mistrust ourselves, and each other. And I know you trust me now. You _did _marry me, after all."

The reporter smiled, mostly at his personal variation on _mole hill. _"That's right." She sighed softly as she settled back into his arms, enjoying the embrace, even with the leather and collar and studs and all. "Okay, then, we're on the same page with this. Don't believe any wild rumors, don't let them try to push us around, stand firm together. I just wish I hadn't had to make that threat to leave KMCP, but I didn't know what else I could do under the circumstances. Mable wasn't going, Jack wasn't lifting a finger to make her leave, and I wasn't about to show him even a single photograph with her there, ready to pounce."

There was another minute of silence, which surprised Roxanne. She'd expected Megamind to at least make some snarky remark about the whole situation with the socialite; when he didn't, she shifted her head to get a good look at his face. From the hyper-focused yet looking-at-nothing expression in the green eyes, she knew he was thinking at lightspeed. "I don't blame you," he finally said when she cleared her throat to remind him of her presence. "But I was wondering: was Marble really there to make some big warped _extrivigeenza _out of our wedding, or was she using it as a cover to be there to listen for any information you might have about Mitchell? Something unpublicized that he might've said to us that would expose whatever had been going on with Lena Albright — or Marble, too, for that matter?"

That observation obliterated any consideration of something as petty as his mangling of _extravaganza_. "It's certainly possible. Most of the information that's come out was about how he tried to kill both of us at our wedding reception, and some parts of the things Leo Zaleski told the police and the Feds to try to save his own skin. I haven't heard or seen a single thing about any statements or comments or even lunatic ravings from Mitchell himself. If she doesn't know for certain what he said to us and the Sister Bay police, then he could've said _anything_. Including squealing on Lena and her cronies to drag them down with him."

Roxanne mulled this over for a moment or two more, then gave her personal protector a gentle kiss. Megamind didn't object, but when the brief kiss ended, one arched eyebrow asked the question. "That's for turning into such a good detective, Mr. Holmes," she explained, teasing. "Given your brain, it shouldn't surprise me — and it doesn't, not as much as it did just after you gave up villainy — but once in a while, you still do, and I appreciate it. You're right, that may be the real reason she was there, not to interfere with our relationship. But I still have a feeling that she's prepared to do that, too, if she thinks she has to."

The expression on the blue face darkened dramatically. "Then she'd better not think it," he growled. "Because if she takes one step in that direction, I'll come up with a way to use every single setting on the de-gun on her — simultaneously."

"I'd like to see that," Roxanne said, in dead earnest. "Just don't ruin the gun, practicing."

Reluctantly, she withdrew from the embrace, having decided that it had too strong a potential for distraction when there was other work to do. On the ride over, an idea had come to her and she wanted to think it through to see if it was feasible. "Right now, I think we should focus on the situation with Mabel. She didn't get up at the crack of dawn to come into town from her mansion on the lake just to horn in on a discussion about our wedding. The stuff we were planning to give Jack for the news tonight isn't anything extraordinary, and even if it was, today's only Tuesday and her weekly spot doesn't record until Friday. She'd have everything exclusive the station's getting long before then, when it wouldn't be exclusive, anymore."

Megamind ambled back to the kitchen's water cooler to refill his glass. "Which would support what I said about her looking for other information. Unless you think she actually wants to be the person to make the official announcement of what's already old news. This isn't a secret, anymore. I don't know about you, but I think just about everyone at the site of that water main break had to find an excuse to come up and congratulate me!"

The brunette nodded, brushing back an errant lock of hair. "I was attacked by half the women working in the Metro Media building the moment I stepped off the elevator. Congratulations, show us the ring, yada yada yada. Yeah, it's obvious that everyone already knows. That can't be what she was really after — but she's got Mr. Kincaid backed into some kind of corner, and I have a feeling she's not leaving that building today until she gets to grill me about every detail of the wedding, including every word Mitchell spoke. I doubt that she'll believe me when I tell her the truth, that he didn't say a thing about her or Lena Albright or any of those other crones."

The ex-villain shrugged. "So, we skip making an official announcement. It's not really that important, after all, not if everyone knows."

Roxanne waggled one hand as she leaned against the prep island. "It is and it isn't. If it was just me marrying some ordinary guy, the most it would rate is a mention in the studio chat between news items. But it's me marrying an alien who happens to have been my serial kidnapper and is now the Defender of Metro City. That's unique, to say the least."

"So give it to another station," Megamind suggested after draining his water glass and putting it into the dishwasher. Over the two years of their official courtship, Roxanne had chided him about leaving such things to Minion and the brainbots when he was only two steps away from the sink or the washer, and she'd done it so often that it was now a reflex for him to put dirty dishes where they belonged, if only when he was in the kitchen. "That'd put an end to Marble's excuses to interfere."

"And it could also put an end to my career," his wife pointed out, not quite finished with her coffee. "I don't think the network would be pleased if I deliberately gave an exclusive to one of our competitors. But I was thinking that maybe we should skip the idea of making it _quite_ so exclusive. I may work for KMCP, but you protect the entire city. The station may think I belong to them, but you belong to everyone in the city, and more. This calls for something a little more general."

Megamind recognized her "devious reporter at work" expression at once; it was, he felt, one of her more endearing looks. "What do you want to do, then?"

She ran one fingertip around the lip of the blue mug she'd set down on the prep countertop. "Well... Is the city council meeting still at one?"

The blue head shook. "They moved it to three because the mayor had an emergency dental appointment."

Her sudden grin made it seem that she was happy to hear that the mayor had chomped out a temporary crown. "Oh, that's even better! It's only ten-thirty now, so we can send out the announcement to _all _the local media in time for the noon news and before the evening papers go to bed."

Genius though he was, when Roxanne went off into her reporter reasoning, Megamind could get lost all too quickly. Presentation was one thing; the vagaries of journalism were often too convoluted, even for his thinking, and it was obvious that she had something more in mind than simply telling the local news media that yes, they'd gotten married. "_What_ announcement?"

The glitter in her blue eyes could best be described as wicked. "That we're holding a press conference at your museum at one-thirty, to announce and answer questions concerning our recent engagement and wedding. Ever since you talked the city into hiring Bernard Jennings as the museum curator to make up for the poor man's dehydration episode, he's been champing at the bit to have _something _special happen there, to showcase all the facilities. We haven't used the big media center since it was finished in May, and this would be the _perfect _opportunity!"

Megamind didn't seem quite so enthused. "It is? Roxanne, we haven't prepared any kind of real presentation, and while I'm usually perfectly happy to just wing it, this isn't one of my villainous schemes to best Wayne, or even an off-the-cuff speech to bolster the spirits of citizens who were in the middle of a foiled bank heist or rescued from a burning building. This is our _marriage_ we're talking about. I can deal with people putting me down for my choices, I've been doing it all my life. But to risk having them snipe at you...!"

But her smile didn't fade. "They'll do that anyway, hon, bigots will be bigots and snobs will be snobs. But we've been letting _them_ decide when we talk about it and who we talk to, and _that's _our mistake! When did the two of us become cowards? It was _our _wedding, Mykaal, and it's _our_ life. If the two of us deciding that we want to spend it together as husband and wife is news, then _we_ should be the ones making _them _come to us at _our_ convenience, to hear what we want to say, and answer the questions we feel deserve answers."

The green eyes blinked slowly, thoughtfully. "Can we get away with that?" he wondered, made faintly uneasy by her unusually vehement reaction. "I mean, I did things like that all the time when I was still a villain, and you more than anyone gave me the impression that I was being impossibly rude...!"

She snorted. "That's because back then, it _was _rude. Your idea of a press conference was getting the media together to be amazed by your latest attempt to get rid of Wayne or unleash some new kind of havoc on the city. This isn't the same thing at all. I don't know why, but we let them take control of something that isn't about them, like Maybelle Duke and Lena Albright and my mother have been trying to do with other people's lives for decades. If we call the press conference at our time and at our venue, we take back control. And if they don't like our answers, tough. I work at KMCP and you sort of work for the city, but they don't _own_ us. And God help anyone who thinks they do!"

Megamind was quiet for a moment or three; then a broad, impish smile crossed his face. "Ah, I do love it when you get angry at someone other than me! If you ever decide to give up your career in journalism, my dear, I'd _love _to have you work with me. Together, I think we could make the city forget there ever _was_ a person called Metro Man!"

Roxanne's mouth quirked into a crooked smile. "Only if we can get them to rename the city, the county, and half the businesses in town. Would you be willing to do this on such short notice?"

The alien made a show of considering the question, then grinned. "If nothing requiring heroic intervention comes up — _and _if you talk to Bernard. He still acts like he expects me to dehydrate him again at any second, and it still bothers me, thinking that I'd left him in my pajamas pocket for... well, too long. Finding out that he didn't have any friends or family worrying about his disappearance was unsettling. Even _I _have never been _that _alone in the world!"

His wife's smile softened. "Ah, there's the big bad supervillain who kept trying to get me to scream for him. You know, it _was_ pretty awful, how long you forgot about Bernard after you dehydrated him, but I think the two of you can stop being so afraid of each other. He didn't get hurt, he got a _much _better job out of it, you even paid all those bills that piled up for him, fixed his credit rating, and got him a nice new condo on the lakefront. Cut yourself some slack, sweetie, and I'll see what I can do to get him to stop jumping at shadows whenever you're around."

The reformed villain gave her his best genuine kicked puppy look. "I'll try, but really, there's something about him that creeps me out — not his snarky attitude, he doesn't pull that on me anymore, not after what happened the last time he did. It's my own fault, I guess. Every time I see his face, it brings back a lot of unhappy memories." He wasn't even about to try to say "melancholy" today.

Early on in their relationship, especially immediately after Bernard had literally popped up in Megamind's laundry, Roxanne had admittedly given the then-new hero some pretty stiff lectures about the selfish habits that had gotten him into that mess to begin with, and she knew that with his near-perfect memory, he still stung whenever the subject of the former librarian now museum curator came up. She regretted being so harsh, and did what she could to make amends for the hurt she'd given him even after he had done all he could to make amends for his mistake.

She kissed him on the cheek, a tacit acknowledgment of her part in this old pain. "I know. I'll talk to Bernard; I know what needs to be done for this kind of thing, anyway. We can send Blinkie and some of his camera bots on ahead to help with the setup; I think Bernard's okay with them, ever since the brainbots helped him arrange some new exhibits and gave him a hand moving into his new condo. You can go downstairs and do whatever you'd planned to do with Minion, and I'll let you know when everything's set."

The kicked-puppy face had faded to be replaced by the look Megamind only wore when some sort of devious plan was brewing in that big head of his. Roxanne, intent on her own designs, didn't see it, as she was already heading for her home office to set her ideas in motion. "Did you say one-thirty for the press conference?" he called after her.

The question made her stop and rethink the plan. "Hmm, you're right, that might be cutting it a little too close to the wire for Bernard, and we don't want there to be _too _big a gap between it and the city council meeting, the media will try to spend the whole time pumping us with stupid, prying question. Let's call it for two-fifteen, then. That'll give us half an hour to make our presentation and field a few questions before we need to head for the city council meeting. I'll send Blinkie and his crew on after I set things up with Bernard, then I'll go over to the museum myself with the materials we'd picked out for KMCP. Depending on how the press conference goes, I may still let Jack have some of it as an exclusive for tonight's news, but... we'll see. Can I count on you to get there on time on your own, or will I need to tell Minion to drag you out of the lab?"

"I'll be there," the blue genius promised most earnestly and honestly. With that reassurance, Roxanne blew him a kiss and a smile, and continued on to her office, determination and inspiration putting a vigorous spring in her step.

Megamind remained where he was, still thinking and planning, until he heard her office door close. He then whistled, a particular series of specific pitches that to most ears sounded like just an ordinary whistle. Moments later, Snooper Seven — the covert surveillance brainbot that had been part of the team that had trailed Stewart Mitchell during his descent into madness — arrived, his querulous bowg clearly asking what Daddy would like for him to do.

"Check your tactical information database for the current location of Kathleen Caldwell-Ritchi," he asked the bot, stroking his goateed chin as his wheels of thought continued to work. "Is she still living in Grand Rapids?" A few seconds passed before Snooper bowged an affirmative. "And working in that absurdly named Metro-Something Hospital?" Snooper confirmed that as well. "Tap into the system and see if she's working today."

The brainbot took perhaps ten seconds longer to perform the requested task. When he bowged a yes, he also projected a heads-up type display showing her schedule for the day. Megamind's eyes narrowed as he studied it, noting when her breaks were planned; his expression then shifted into a devilish smile. "Excellent! Tell Minion that I have an important errand to run, that I'll be taking my hoverbike, and if I'm not back before it's time to leave for the conference, I'll meet him and Mommy there." He paused to reconsider those orders, then amended them. "You should tell Mommy that I've gone on an errand, too, she'll pitch a foot if she comes looking for me and I'm not here, or if I don't get back before it's time to leave and I didn't warn her."

He held up a warning finger in the brainbot's virtual face. "But not another word about this to either of them, Snooper! This is something Daddy needs to take care of on his own."

Snooper bowged and bobbed his understanding of the instructions as well as the warning, then headed off to take the message down to lower levels of the Lair. Megamind watched the brainbot go, then, turning on his heel with a dramatic flourish of his cape, he strode out of the living quarters and back to the lift up to the observatory/hangar. There were important questions that needed answers, _now_, and since Roxanne had taken on the uncomfortable task of dealing with Bernard for him, the least the hero could do in return for her kindness was to take on the even less pleasant task of confronting her mother.

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: I truly hadn't expected this chapter to contain all the exposition it does, but considering that the major point of this story is to set up the next one, I guess my Muse was right to bring up a lot of these points now. It's suitable, I think, since it fits with the way Megamind's thought processes might work, bouncing from here to there and back again, but ultimately arriving where he needs them. _

_It also saddens me to say that part of this chapter - the DNC issue - is based on what I know from what I have been told by people who have been teachers and have worked in school offices, and also from my own experience. I didn't know until long after my mother was dead that she had been a DNC mother, which explained a lot about why no matter what I did or what happened to me at school, my parents never knew about it. It's an awful thing to know that things like this really do happen, and happen far more often than we ourselves are often aware, even when we are the child to whom it happened._

_Thanks as always go to all my gentle and patient readers and reviewers. My arm is still improving (my energy not so much, but it's making some progress), and I'm glad I'm managing to at least get out one chapter per week. Hopefully before long, that will improve as well._

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><p>Chapter Six<p>

Grand Rapids — a smaller inland city about sixty miles from Metro City — would have taken a little over an hour to reach by car, depending on traffic and road conditions. Both could be positively miserable if there was any road construction underway, which there almost inevitably was. With the hoverbike — able to max out around five hundred miles per hour and capable of a comfortable cruise around two hundred while taking a direct air route rather than the more convoluted roads — the trip could be cut down to well under half an hour. The weather, happily, was clear, dry, and comfortably warm, so Megamind had no doubt that travel time would not be an issue when it came to returning before the scheduled press conference. The potential road block, as it were, was Roxanne's mother and how difficult it might be to get her to cooperate.

As the hoverbike streaked more or less eastward through the late morning sky, its navigational systems warning when he needed to steer clear of other air traffic, Megamind had two thoughts prominent in his mind. The first was thankfulness that he'd given in to Minion and Roxanne's insistence that he develop protective goggles for his eyes while riding on the bike, which were more vulnerable to the side effects of high speeds than the rest of him. The bike's tight force shield was capable of deflecting debris, birds, and anything else that might cause damaging impact, but it couldn't block all of the wind without suffocating him, nor all of the bright sunlight without rendering him essentially blind.

He'd discovered the first effect months back and rather embarrassingly while eagerly demonstrating to Roxanne the efficiency of a force field so powerful that not even the tiniest molecule of anything could get through to harm him. That had been intended to be reassuring to his then-girlfriend, an effort to make good on his promises to try to keep himself alive and unharmed during his heroics (not to mention a first step toward creating a smaller version of a more powerfully effective shield that could be used for protection by both her and Minion as well). As with so many things, however, his enthusiasm for the project had led him to go completely overboard, with the inevitable negative results.

Minion had shut down the field and rescued his ward after Megamind had quite suddenly fainted from lack of oxygen. To his credit, the fish _had_ tried to warn him that in this case, blocking _everything _might not be such a wise decision. To _her_ credit, Roxanne had kept her teasing down to a few very small chuckles and considerably more praise for his genius in coming up with such an amazing invention in the first place; she was sure that in time, he'd be able to fine-tune it to achieve the correct desired effect.

After that, although he still wasn't able to make this powerful version of the equipment both effective and small enough to be worn unobtrusively on one's person, he'd made the adjustments that would cut down on the punishing effects of riding head-first into a high velocity air stream without cutting off the air supply to anyone on the bike. The result was like riding a motorcycle at somewhere around ninety miles per hour: quite a rush, but not deadly. It did tend to dry out one's eyeballs, though, so at Roxanne and Minion's request, he'd designed wickedly cool black-and-silver goggles to take care of that issue. Their photo-reactive lenses would also darken as needed to spare him further troubles with glaring light.

The second matter flitting through his head was less pleasant, to say the least. Megamind had been hoping to indefinitely postpone the dubious pleasure of meeting either of Roxanne's parents, since she was not fond of them and had few pleasant memories of them to speak of. Her mentions of happy childhood visits to Hill Top Park in Metro City with her mother were probably among the most positive, and that seemed to be more because she'd found it a nice place to play, not because she and her mother had done anything exciting together. Roxanne herself didn't want him to meet them, and Megamind hadn't argued with her wishes one bit. She already knew that they didn't like him, and he never kidded himself with the thought that he might win them over, not if they had already alienated the most wonderful woman in the universe.

To his mind, that was an unforgivable sin, and if not for the current situation, Megamind would happily have gone the rest of his life without ever seeing so much as a picture of Kathleen Caldwell-Ritchi. But that she was involved with this convoluted and suspicious activity at Roxanne's workplace said more to him than it apparently did to his wife, with good reason. When their relationship had deepened to the point that the ex-villain had begun to think of proposing marriage, he had started looking into anything that might get in the way of the possibility becoming a reality; relatives with obstructionist or anti-alien agendas headed the list. He hadn't thought that Roxanne's parents would actually attempt to stop their daughter from marrying whomever she chose, but he had been sufficiently insecure about his own worthiness to be her prospective husband to look into it.

From what he had found by examining various public records, her father, Matthew Ritchi, was nothing to worry about. Though not an actual criminal, Matt, as he was named in almost every record, was far from a sterling citizen who could self-righteously protest his daughter's involvement with a reformed villain. He had broken a few laws in his day, everything from failure to file taxes to disorderly conduct, assault and battery, reckless endangerment, and DUI.

Had any of his infractions ever threatened Roxanne's life, Megamind wouldn't have been so willing to dismiss them, but by and large, these things had happened either when Matt was alone or out with his buddies. His biggest crime to date had been the assault and battery charge that resulted from starting a notable drunken brawl among the fans at an ice hockey game between the Metro City Meteors (the closest they'd been able to get to Metro-something as a name, since the others like "Metro City Mets" had already been taken by other professional sports franchises) and their arch-rivals, the Detroit Red Wings. On the whole, the reformed villain could understand why Kathleen had divorced Matt and why his daughter wanted nothing to do with him. He didn't quite fit the job description for a deadbeat dad since he had always managed to hold down a respectable job and bring home good, steady paychecks, but he was basically a selfish boor who lacked even a semblance of classy presentation.

Roxanne's mother, on the other hand... Early in their relationship, Roxanne had been so unwilling to talk about her, Megamind had wondered if she'd been physically abusive. Suspicious, he had checked into his girlfriend's old school records to see if anything which would point to that kind of a home life had turned up. There hadn't been any of the usual indications — unexplained injuries, bruises, frequent unexplained illnesses and the like — but there _had _been a peculiar notation under the contact information: _DNC. _Even after the divorce, Kathleen had been listed as the person to be notified if there was some kind of problem or emergency involving Roxanne, along with all the required phone numbers and addresses, but the puzzling notation had also been added, in large red block letters.

That had confused Megamind, considerably. He wasn't the most socially adept person on the planet and he knew it, but he was aware that nurses usually had either RN or LPN added to their names, designating the type of nurse they happened to be. He'd looked it up, and there was no such designation for someone in that profession; moreover, the peculiarity of the letters being large and bright red also perplexed him. It just didn't make any sense to him. So earlier that year, after he'd visited a school to present awards for their annual science fair, he'd asked the vice-principal what such a thing might mean when that notation appeared in a student's contact files.

The world weary man had answered, sadly. It wasn't one of Kathleen's titles or anything so pleasant, he'd told the city's defender. It had been put there by the staff of the school, and stood for _DO NOT CALL. _It happened when the school tried repeatedly to contact the parents when the child got hurt in gym class, became sick during the day, was picked on by bullies, got in trouble, or had some other important matter come up during school hours, and every single time, the parents demonstrated a total lack of interest in the child's welfare. They would not come when they should, would not get involved in their child's life no matter what might be happening, and after the pattern repeated too many times, the school staff knew that it would be pointless to try contacting them, and thus they made such notations. There were many kinds of indifferent parents; some were too wrapped up in the drama of their own lives to give a damn about their children, some were alcoholics or other substance abusers, some were too busy at work to make time for their children, some just didn't care.

Whatever the reasons, the results were the same. The poor kid was essentially on his or her own, and unless the parents did something criminally neglectful or provably abusive, there was nothing the schools could do but try to make up for it where and when they could. Unfortunately, there were too many children in that situation, and not enough time or resources — not to mention legal permission — for the schools to help them all, or do much for those they could help.

It had appalled Megamind, and knowing that such a note had been placed in Roxanne's records because of her own mother had made him little inclined to ever set eyes on the woman. He hadn't told Roxanne that he'd discovered this detail of her past. He hadn't needed to, since she'd told him about everything but the notation. He suspected she hadn't mentioned it because she didn't know, and he hadn't wanted to be responsible for adding another layer of pain to her memories of an already painful past. Besides, the alien admittedly had plenty of his own issues when it came to dealing with the results of a traumatic childhood, but for a mother to ignore her flesh and blood daughter to the point that it became common knowledge in the school offices that she couldn't be bothered to care...!

To say that it made his blood boil was putting things mildly. Half the reason Megamind knew that Kathleen still lived in Grand Rapids was because whenever Roxanne was having a bad day somehow made worse by recollections of her childhood and the parental love she'd been denied, he'd considered going over and introducing the woman to some of his more evilly inventive ideas for torture.

And yet, here the woman was now, decades after the time when she _should _have been involved in her only child's life, mixed up with people who for some reason wanted to poke their noses into Roxanne's private life, people who were connected to one of the most vile and despicable persons Megamind had ever had the displeasure of meeting — and that included the other prisoners he'd known over the last thirty-some years.

He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say to Kathleen, though he knew what subjects needed to be broached. He strongly suspected that she was going to try to refuse to see him, much less speak with him, but this time, he was perfectly willing to pull his trump card as a superhero and defender of the people to force a meeting. Of course, that might just make her barricade herself in a closet or run off or call in the police or... hmmm. Okay, perhaps this wasn't the best approach, though he rather liked the idea of holding her at gunpoint, even if the gun was merely set to decoupage.

As the hoverbike flew high above the smaller towns and farms and woodlands that filled most of the terrain between Metro City and Grand Rapids, Megamind went to work considering his options for approaching the woman. If she'd worked in a business office environment, he would simply go to her boss, tell him or her that he needed to speak with Kathleen, and then be escorted to her office or cubicle before she had a chance to evade him. But she worked in a hospital, and from the information he had on the woman, she was not in the position of prominence she had once known.

Back in the days when the Ritchis were still a family and had lived in Metro City, Kathleen had been on her way to becoming the head of the nursing staff at Metro Mercy Hospital. She'd had quite a reputation, and had been their top surgical nurse — until the divorce. Megamind wasn't exactly sure why things had fallen apart for her at work just then; Roxanne's speculation was that her mother's society friends, like Maybelle, had disapproved, that their cattiness had gotten back to the people she worked with, and the stress had made her sloppy in her job performance.

Whatever the reason, she'd suddenly up and left that formerly promising position about four months after the divorce was finalized. Two years later, when Roxanne went away to college — no big, prestigious Ivy League school; her mother had been pushing for Brown or Notre Dame, her father hadn't seen any point in sending "the girl" to college at all, and so they compromised on letting her go to the state university in Ann Arbor, where Matt could at least root for the sports teams — her mother left Metro City for a new job in a new town. She'd gone to Chicago for a couple of years, but had found that much bigger city not to her liking. About the time Roxanne graduated with her degree in Journalism, Kathleen relocated to Grand Rapids, where she could be a big fish in a smaller pond.

That change had gone well for Kathleen — until she began to show her age. The hospital said that she'd been replaced as head nurse by a younger woman because she'd failed to keep abreast of all the new technologies that were now a part of her profession, but back when she'd still been talking to her daughter, she'd insisted that it was the age factor, nothing more. Her replacement was some young blonde thing practically fresh out of nursing school, and she was convinced that she'd forced her way into the job by using her looks and sexual favors to influence all the right people.

During their vacation this past month, on a cozy, rainy evening when they'd been baring their souls to each other in an odd version of truth or dare that never seemed to result in the choice of a dare, Roxanne had told him the whole story of her mother and the long phone calls she'd inflicted on her, spent complaining about the unfairness of her demotion, venting her anger, threatening to sue. Roxanne had been of the opinion that she _should_ sue, since discrimination in the workplace because of age was a very real thing, and needed to be brought out into the open and exposed for the crime that it was. Kathleen had then turned on _her, _claiming that Roxanne twisted everything into fodder for that foolish journalism obsession of hers because she was young and didn't have to worry about such things, but just wait until _her _looks began to mature, and she'd find out just how fast the world would turn against her and how everyone from bosses to boyfriends would dump her...!

Megamind found himself clenching his teeth at the mere thought. As if _he _would ever turn against her, much less _dump _her! Didn't that harpy know that she had somehow managed to give birth to a true angel, who would never be less than beautiful and desirable, no matter how old or wrinkled or faded she might physically become?

Roxanne had told him — amid a lot of _very_ appreciative kisses — that he was not only seeing her through the skewed eyes of what was obviously true love, but that he also had a unique reason to hold her in such lofty esteem, as she had quite literally been the good woman for whom he had given up his bad ways. He had seen her point, and he still did, but he also knew that there was nothing he could imagine her capable of doing that would ever make him turn against her. Even if she ran off with another man, his heart would break and he would want to die, but he would ultimately believe that it was somehow his fault, for being an alien and a former criminal. In his mind, each day he worked as a hero and improved both the city and himself, he earned another day of being worthy of her forgiveness, and her love.

That was something most therapists would consider an unhealthy attitude. In fact, Philip DeVries, the prison psychologist who had somehow become Megamind's friend and staunch supporter after he'd abandoned his criminal career, had said that in anyone else, he would point to this as a sign of serious emotional trouble. In Megamind — with his peculiar background of being an obvious alien in a human world, one who had had the misfortune of landing in a prison, being labeled as bad out of prejudice, and in general treated as if he was something unworthy of simple kindness, much less love — he felt it did indicate a damaged sense of self-esteem, definitely in need of repair, but not to the point of being a permanent and crippling emotional disability. The more Megamind labored to better himself for Roxanne's sake, the more it became for his _own_ sake, healing the inner wounds from his abused past.

Over the past two years and more, the ex-villain had become increasingly more aware of these things. And if he, who had been labeled as monumentally selfish, a total failure, the ultimate loser, the worst egomaniac and most obnoxious narcissist on the planet had some hope of getting beyond that past enough to allow Roxanne to forgive him, then whatever it was her mother had done must be truly heinous.

Of course, perhaps it was simply the fact that it was her _mother _who had hurt her that made all the crimes and kidnappings of Megamind's past pale by comparison. Or maybe...

He abruptly shook his head to clear it. Enough chewing on ancient history; it wasn't getting him anywhere, not now. Whatever had caused the rift between mother and daughter was less important than the fact that it existed and was currently a part of the troubles in Roxanne's life. Not even two weeks ago, he had formally vowed to support and protect and defend Roxanne, and by God, he was going to do it, even if it meant having to confront his mother-in-law in a den of vipers.

He just wished he had _some_ idea of how he could pull this off without making a complete fool of himself.

Megamind sighed to himself as he saw the first distant sight of Grand Rapids appear to the southeast. Oh, well, it certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd done that! It was time to settle down, quit gnawing on specters from the past, and consider the present options.

The blue genius had been born with a phenomenally quick mind and could see designs and patterns and the ways things worked in exacting detail, just as easily as other people opened a book and looked at plain instructions complete with illustrations. It was exhilarating, exciting, one of the few pure joys he had known all his life — and that, quite unintentionally, had been his biggest problem for most of his thirty-six years. The heady rush that he felt every time something clicked in his brain, when a major idea began to solidify into a concrete design, when the breaking waves of sheer inspiration washed through him like the surf on a beach at high tide...

The exhilaration of it knocked him off his mental feet, and he had so enjoyed it, like a child with a sackful of his favorite treat he had gorged himself on it and made himself sick. Not literally sick, but it had always been his surrender to feeling this rush that allowed the stupid mistakes and unseen flaws to slink into his plans. Minion had tried to make him aware of it when he saw the errors coming, but caught up in the ecstasy of his inventor's high, Megamind hadn't heard him — or if he did hear him, he immediately dismissed the warnings as irrelevant. Demonstrating caution diminished the awesome feelings of intoxicating triumph, and that just wasn't acceptable.

The truth was — and only in the last year had Megamind truly begun to see it — he was a creative junkie. The high humans got from drugs and alcohol and adrenaline and other such chemical things was what he got when his brain was working at the max, creating something either physical or intellectual, inventing, solving puzzles, making new discoveries. And like human junkies, when he went overboard and indulged himself too much and too often, he became delusional, like an artist hopped up on some hallucinogen believing that he is painting perfection when he's actually just getting sloppy. Megamind was just beginning to see how true this had been for him over his entire life, and the knowledge was both humbling and revealing.

Because in it, he was also beginning to understand what his parents had told him via their recordings. He was only now reaching the point of full adult maturation, emotionally and intellectually, and he was finally starting to grasp the almost frightening reality and scope of it. He _was _capable of much more than all he had done so far in his life, and the potential was... unnerving, to say the least.

_You are destined for greatness. _That's what his father had told him when he'd placed him in the escape pod, and also in the recordings. Even after the former villain had discovered that he'd been in error, thinking his father had said something else, something that pointed to an inevitable criminal career, he hadn't been able to grasp how this was possible, unless he'd meant greatness as in heroism.

Now, he knew that his father had meant something different, something much, _much _more than mere heroics, even superheroics. And lacking any kind of guidance for this path that was slowly taking shape before him, he felt... scared. As if he was looking into the maw of the massive vortex that had sucked up his homeworld and swallowed it whole, and was himself trembling on the brink.

He shuddered. Well, dwelling on _that_ right now wouldn't get him anywhere, either. _Focus, _he chided himself, and very quickly, his thought processes realigned themselves to deal with the issues at hand. He needed to get to Roxanne's mother and have a talk with her about the situation that had developed with Maybelle and the various bosses' wives at KMCP. He needed to find out whatever she knew about it, and what her particular role in this behind the scenes drama happened to be. He needed to know all this so that he would have a way to not merely block the control these women were trying to exert over Roxanne, but to put an end to it, permanently.

Megamind knew that Roxanne genuinely wanted to pursue this new turn in her career, to follow her chosen path as far as it could go, and she couldn't do that if petty women like these society vultures kept holding her back from _her_ destiny because of what they'd done in _their_ pasts. This situation involving the announcement of their wedding was, he suspected, a kind of test to see how much they could get away with. Roxanne Ritchi, safely kept in line and under their watchful eyes — and oppressive thumbs — at a local network affiliate could do only so much harm to them, since all she did could be passed through their filters and altered to protect themselves. Roxanne Ritchi, a major in-depth investigative reporter answering to the network itself could uncover all manner of corruption, beginning in her own home town, and have the ugly news go national — even global — before these women had a chance to censor it.

No. That was _not_ going to happen. Megamind knew all too well how being controlled and put down and silenced by others who did _not _have your welfare in mind could crush one's spirit, one's soul, one's life. He could smell the stench of that kind of manipulation in everything his wife had told him about Maybelle in the office and the information given to her by Janya Bhandari. And his sense of smell was acute, for more than mere physical aromas. This had to be stopped before it even had a chance to get started.

So, he could come in guns blazing (so to speak), get into Kathleen Caldwell-Ritchi's face, and lean on her until she cracked. Play the angry ex-villain and new husband to the hilt (which admittedly wouldn't require much acting, since he definitely _was _angry) and force the catty mother-in-law to back off and spill the beans.

Megamind squirmed uneasily as he considered the possible repercussions of this approach. It _really _didn't sit well with the part of him that had finally grown comfortable with his new station in life as a true hero. He didn't mind using people's discomfort with his alien appearance to get cooperation from the uncooperative, but actually threatening the ex-Mrs. Ritchi wasn't really an option. Roxanne would be furious with him if he ruined his reputation like that. Moreover, he had a strong suspicion that it wouldn't work on the woman, anyway. She had already dismissed him as a creature beneath her notice when he'd started to date her daughter, and would likely answer any threats he made with stubborn defiance and a complete refusal to cooperate.

Okay, scratch that. If Kathleen hated his guts and wouldn't tell him diddly no matter _what_ he did, how could get the information he wanted from her?

Mind still whizzing at lightspeed, Megamind glanced at his watch, idly checking the time. As he looked at its dial, all its many non-chronograph features caught his eye, and his mind added all those details to the mix of what he was already processing. Something suddenly went _ping! _in his head, and a slow smile spread across his face.

He tapped a control on the bike's central console, increasing the strength of the noise blocking field as he slowed his speed a bit. "Activate comm," he said when the rushing of the wind was all but silenced. "Find and contact Ralph Thurmer at any available number, priority urgent. State source of call to contact."

The built-in communications system immediately went to work. If his brain hadn't been preoccupied with other vastly more important plans, Megamind might've preened over his own inventive genius, just a wee bit. When he'd demonstrated the sophisticated and totally hands-free system to Roxanne a while back, she'd been quite impressed, to the point that she'd recommended he talk to her cousin Sean in Flint about it. The automotive industry would kill to have a built-in phone system this sophisticated and accurate in its voice activation, although she did feel that the subroutines that allowed the caller to locate the person they were seeking might be used improperly by people who shouldn't have such abilities available to them. Stalkers, angry boyfriends, crazy family members, that sort of thing. Roxanne still wasn't quite sure just _how _Megamind had managed to design a system that could find and contact people via phone even when they weren't at home and didn't have one on their person. He'd assured her that it involved nothing illegal, but they were both in agreement that the world wasn't quite ready for the technology.

It proved its efficiency less than a minute later when the pleasantly gruff voice of the retired Warden Thurmer replied via the speakerphone. "Hello, Mykaal, what's up? I'm surprised to hear from you so soon — I thought you'd still be on your honeymoon."

The ex-villain smiled a bit sappily, still very much in a mental honeymoon phase. "We decided that extending the long vacation even more might not be a good idea, what with some of the other business that came up while we were gone."

"Stewart Mitchell?"

"That's part of it, yes."

Thurmer snorted. "If I were you, I wouldn't say he's worth it. They have enough immediate evidence to hold him without bail almost indefinitely, and with the reports they have from the psychiatric examiners, I'd say that whatever cell he's in is going to be good and padded. You two kids could've waited another few weeks and had a proper honeymoon."

That the man who had been his legal guardian as well as the administrator of all his years of legitimate criminal incarceration should now feel this way gave Megamind a pleasantly warm glow inside, that of finally feeling accepted by the world in which he lived. "Thank you, sir, it's good of you to say that, but Roxanne and I both thought we'd be able to go and enjoy ourselves better a month or so from now, after we've tied up all these loose ends."

Now, the warden sighed. "Yeah, I suppose you're right about that. It's hard to relax decently when you know you'll be coming home to crap like this. It kinda kills any even vaguely romantic mood. If there's anything I can do to help speed things up, son, just let me know."

Megamind's sappy smile now turned broad and mischievous. "I'm glad to heard you say that, Warden, because there's something of yours I'd like to borrow..."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: If I had started this story by giving titles or Dickensian descriptions to the chapters, I would have titled this one "Chapter Seven, in which we see the tale of Roxanne's parents from her mother's point of view, and in which a stranger pays her a visit at work." The Muse wanted to do much more with this part of things than I'd initially planned - which I think is for the best. When one is presenting a character with a negative viewpoint, it can help, sometimes, to show a little more of how their mind works, so that even if they will never come across as sympathetic, there will at least be a frame of reference for the way they think, and thus how they will react to things. If I were to ever write this same back story from her father's point of view, it would come out sounding quite different. (And would you believe that yet again, this kind of thinking and attitude is based on people I've known? What a life I've had...!) Because of this, the chapter wound up MUCH longer than planned, and thus was divided into two parts: Chapter Seven, the set-up, and Chapter Eight, the confrontation. Worry not, the next chapter is already finished, and merely needs a few hours of editing before I put it up, which should be some time this evening. Enjoy (if that's the correct word) - and my humble thanks as always to all my kind readers and reviewers._

_Oh, and as a postscript: Grand Rapids is, of course, a real city in Michigan. The hospital at which Kathleen works is not (although there is a real Metro Health clinic or some such in that area, this is not in any way based on it).  
><em>

* * *

><p>Chapter Seven<p>

It was a typical day after a holiday at the Metrocare Outpatient and Urgent Care Hospital somewhere on the west side of Grand Rapids. The cases coming in were predictable: The usual burns and gashes from people who had tried to show off their barbecue or knife skills to impress guests at an end of summer backyard bash, or who had taken half a dozen too many trips to the well and now were suffering the inevitable repercussions and wanted a doctor to take away their hangover. Broken bones and scraped knees from sports played without the proper equipment. Food poisoning from picnics taken without proper cooling and/or cooking of the food. Cuts and contusions and concussions from brawls caused by too much drinking, too much heat, too little thinking.

Kathleen Caldwell-Ritchi cursed every day at work like this one, and all the more so since she had fallen to the lowly status of an ordinary clinic nurse, there only to take temperatures, measure weight and blood pressure, and jot down whatever complaints the patient might have before the doctor came in to do the actual exam. Gone were the days of respect and prestige that she had once known. She considered this job one step up from changing bedpans in a nursing home, and lord only knew how long it would be before she was shuffled off to a job like that, where she would be expected to disappear among the feeble old folks before she became one herself.

Having just finished with the eighth patient of the day thus far — really, why did they call them patients? They were nothing but stupid, lazy people who had gotten themselves sick or injured through their own incompetence, and a woman of her skills was simply wasted on them — she checked the doctor's schedule, saw that he would be in with this particular patient for at least fifteen minutes, and decided to take the brief unofficial break to step into a washroom and freshen up a bit. She hated the days when she had to be in as soon as the clinic opened; the early mornings never gave her enough time to deal with the puffiness she always seemed to have just after wakening. It made her look older, tireder, and she just knew it was the fault of all the garbage they let them put into food.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, and was pleased to see that her morning makeup was still doing its job, the various lotions and serums and concealers tightening the skin around her eyes to hide the awful morning sags and dark circles. Her hair was still perfect, cut in the perfect style to flatter her triangular face, not a single gray hair marring its auburn beauty (given what she'd paid for it at the salon just last week, there would be hell to pay if she _did _see any silver peeping through before her next touch-up). She wished that she hadn't been cursed with brown eyes; they were just so _plain_, and there was nothing one could do to enhance them without making it obvious that they were wearing colored contact lenses.

Besides, the contacts that could make brown eyes a more interesting and attractive color had the unfortunate side-effect of occasionally hampering one's visual acuity. She'd had the misfortune of discovering that while on the job some years ago. While the mistakes she'd made as a result hadn't outright cost her her job — no one had actually _died, _for heaven's sake, she'd just picked up the wrong instruments a few times while working for the same surgeon, and he'd gotten his nose out of joint about it — it had started gossip, that she was getting old before her time, her eyesight failing. The whole thing had blown out of proportion because that idiot Matt had compounded the problem by telling some people she worked with that she made foolish mistakes at home, too, and _that _had made the hospital administrators take her name off the list to be considered for the job as head of the nursing staff. None of it had been her fault, not one bit of it, but oh, how some people, jealous of her superlative nursing skills, were quick to pounce on the slightest slip-ups and simply ruin her life, out of spite!

The whole injustice of it still stung after all these years, and Kathleen was quite sure that everything that had started back then had followed her, the same whispers and rumors and lies, spoiling one thing after another until she was reduced to this ignominious position at a minor clinic. She really wouldn't grace it with the name "hospital," outpatient or in, since her duties took her nowhere near that portion of the facilities.

She frowned, saw what the expression did to the lines around her eyes and mouth, and immediately attempted to relax her face to make them go away. Life simply wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair that some people were born with beautifully colored eyes and flawlessly smooth skin and perfect teeth and hair. It wasn't fair that between her job and her alimony, she still couldn't afford regular botox or even collagen injections to erase these traitorous footprints of time. It wasn't fair that her parents hadn't had the money when she was a girl to buy her all the latest designer clothes she longed for and to send her to an orthodontist to get the dental veneers she'd wanted so that she would be welcomed into all of the best clubs and societies, first in high school and later in college.

It wasn't fair that she hadn't been awarded that special scholarship to get all her expenses paid to nursing school just because she hadn't racked up the top grades along with hundreds of hours of community service to impress the selection board for the award. The girl who'd gotten it had used her parents' influence to win, she was sure of it, just as she was sure that in college, some girls from her sorority had lied to the dean of the nursing school about her cheating on tests. She hadn't _cheated; _she'd just tried to even the playing field, to make up a little for the fact that she was the only girl in her entire house who had to work an ordinary job outside of school hours because her parents had insisted that her free time shouldn't be spent in an endless round of parties and socializing. Really, that stupid job had barely left her with any time to study, much less go to all the club meetings and social functions that were a simple must for anyone with her ambitions, and the little notes she'd made to use during a few tests were just to make up for the study time she'd lost.

In her opinion, she'd done amazingly well with her life, given all the misfortunes that had befallen her. During her final year in college, she'd met a young man who had been handsome, ambitious, well-connected, and from a prosperous family. Matthew Ritchi — a chemistry major, with good prospects for a promising career at any of several major pharmaceutical research companies — had taken a shine to her, and she'd happily allowed herself to be swept off her feet. After graduation, they'd both taken jobs in the Metro City area, and had been looking forward to a bright and promising future.

And then, through no fault of her own, Kathleen had gotten pregnant. Neither she nor Matt were happy with the timing of it; they'd both wanted children someday, of course, though not until their careers had been well-established. To keep the unfortunate situation from tarnishing either of their reputations, they quickly were married, before Kathleen began to show, and thus propriety was maintained. That the baby — a girl she'd named after her own Aunt Roxanne, an outstanding nurse at a major research hospital in Boston — was small was for the good, since her size and birth weight supported the illusion that she'd come about six weeks early.

Kathleen stayed at home with their daughter for three months, and when her maternity leave ended, she went back to work at Metro Mercy Hospital, to continue to toil her way up the ranks of the nursing staff. It was only fair; she'd never made any bones about the fact that she felt nursing to be her true calling in life — but Matt hadn't seen it that way. He'd felt that once she'd gotten pregnant, that book had been closed. He felt that she should do what mothers were supposed to do: stay home and take care of the baby while the man went out and brought home the bacon. He thought it made him look like a poor provider — not too mention a poor man — when she rushed back to work as soon as possible. But she didn't agree, and she wasn't willing to compromise. She had never made any promises to give up her career to raise his children; it was all _his_ fault when Matt assumed that she would.

Things between them had become strained for a while after that, but once Matt got used to the idea that his wife would continue pursuing her nursing career and that their daughter would be taken care of by a string of babysitters, relatives, family friends, neighbors, and daycare workers, their relationship improved again. He'd had to admit that he liked the benefits that came with the extra income, and he'd always taken good advantage of it.

And it most definitely had _not _been Kathleen's fault when baby Roxanne came down with the mumps and passed it on to her father. Yes, there had been a mumps case at the hospital a week or so before Roxie fell sick, an older person who'd developed complications and required hospital care, but Kathleen was certain that _she_ hadn't been the one to bring home the disease. It had probably been the babysitter or someone at the daycare facility, or even Matt himself. He just hadn't shown the symptoms first because Roxie was a baby and more susceptible to such things.

But after that, when years passed and Kathleen never became pregnant again, Matt accused her of taking the pill behind his back, to make sure that she could keep on with her career without the nuisance of more children, even though she knew he desperately wanted at least one son. Their fights had grown terrible, and none of it had been her fault! She admitted that she'd been around the nurses who had been taking care of that mumps patient, but even if she _had_ carried the germs, that didn't mean she'd _planned _to bring it home and give it to her own baby! And how was she supposed to know that Matt's parents hadn't ever had him inoculated against it? Sensible people made sure their children got all their childhood inoculations when they were still children! _They _were to blame for the fact that he'd caught it, not Kathleen for going to work and doing her job!

Oh, how Matt had laid into her about _that! _He'd ranted at her about how she'd been there on her day off and wasn't even supposed to be working in that area of the hospital. She dug in her heels and ranted back, wanting to know how she was supposed to achieve her lifelong aspiration of becoming a head nurse at a major medical facility if she didn't learn about _all_ the different areas of nursing, and also put in extra time, off the clock?

Matt's answer to that had been brutally and unfairly blunt: he made enough money in his job to support a wife and half a dozen kids in style, and that was the man's job, not the woman's. She was _supposed _to do what mothers had been doing since the dawn of time, stay at home and take care of the house and the children. If she hadn't wanted the responsibility of childrearing, she should've been doing something to prevent it from happening.

What a Neanderthal! Even now, thinking back to those days, Kathleen's temper soared. How typical of a man, to expect the woman to take care of absolutely everything! She'd wanted children, of course she did, but she'd wanted a career even more. Matt had _known_ this from the first time they'd met, and if he hadn't wanted the same things, he could've taken steps to prevent it himself. The nerve of him, putting all the blame on her, both about first having children, and then not having _more_ children.

Well, she'd been perfectly justified in taking steps to make sure she never gave any more children to _him! _She hadn't been willing to trust the tests that said the mumps had rendered him sterile, and frankly, she'd had enough of her life wasted, taking care of the one child she _had_ given him. She was _not _going to give up the rest of her life to fulfill his daddy fantasies! If she hadn't already been taking the pill — she'd started shortly after Roxie was born, to make sure her periods were regular, nothing more — she would have started right then and there!

This quarrel between them dragged on for years, continuing even after Roxie was out of daycare and in school. From Kathleen's point of view, those early school years had been some of the most enjoyable parts of motherhood, taking her little girl to parks and such, where she could play with the children of all Kathleen's friends while the women caught up on all the news and planned their social lives. It came as no surprise to her that Matt missed out on most of that. He started to hang out more and more with his friends from college and from work, spending many evenings going to sporting events or watching them in TV, taking many weekends to head out of town for hunting or fishing trips. Kathleen adamantly refused to participate in such uncouth activities — especially since they often kept her from going to the important social functions she would have preferred to attend. A few times, she'd let him take Roxie with him, but when the girl came home looking more and more like a ragamuffin and acting even more like a headstrong, unladylike tomboy, Kathleen had put an end to that, or at least tried to. She'd been able to get the girl to take some pride in her appearance, but she'd never been able to get rid of that sometimes boyishly forthright behavior that could be so unbecoming in a proper girl.

For Kathleen, the last straw had come when Matt gave up his career at a major pharmaceutical company in favor of a more lucrative but far less prestigious job working in the labs for some petrochemical industry. He had started out as such a promising young man with high aspirations, and in only a handful of years, he'd thrown it all away and turned into some kind of Michigan good ol' boy whose greatest interests in life were sports, liquor, and having a good time while his wife slaved away, trying to make something better of herself.

It was so shameful, she'd started to half-return to using her maiden name. She couldn't bring herself to completely drop the Ritchi surname, as it still had good connections in certain important and influential circles, but though she'd wanted to maintain that link to his family, she'd had less and less desire to maintain the connection to _him_. The inevitable divorce came when Roxie was fourteen — or was it fifteen? — and quite capable of taking care of herself. Never let it be said that Kathleen didn't have a proper grasp of her maternal duties; she knew better than to go and get divorced before the child was old enough to safely be left home alone!

Of course, the girl was very much her father's daughter, a selfish ingrate through and through. First she didn't side with Kathleen when she tried to insist that Roxie be sent to one of the best nursing colleges rather than some mediocre state run school, then she refused to join the sororities that would give her the most useful social connections that would be to her advantage in her career. No, she kept company with the most common riff-raff, and took off for almost an entire month with that Oriental girl, not bothering to call home even once. Kathleen was sure that there had been plenty of disgraceful goings-on during that "road trip," lots of drinking and drugs and sex, no doubt, since after she _finally_ came home, Roxie up and quit the entire pre-medical program and declared a major in Journalism. Journalism! Why, if there was a more useless, pointless career in the world, Kathleen had never heard of it.

And all those ridiculous jobs the foolish girl took, in places no decent person would be found living, just to get enough experience to move up to a job in a reasonably important city. Kathleen was certain that whatever had happened to her during that road trip had damaged her brain, if Roxie honestly thought that _this _was a worthwhile career. Journalists didn't _make _the news, they merely reported it. It was like voyeurism, in Kathleen's opinion, a sick second best to actually going out and living a life that made a real difference, like hers.

The final proof of that, she felt, was her daughter's unhealthy involvement with the two alien freaks who kept putting her life in danger without a care for her safety. The so-called hero was no better than the villain, so Kathleen had always believed. If he'd actually possessed the powers he claimed, he would have made sure Roxie was _always_ safe. And the other... _creature..._

The very thought of that blue _thing_ made Kathleen's stomach heave. She had given Roxie every opportunity in life, every chance to make something worthwhile of herself, every chance to become involved with upright, decent, _normal _men of good breeding, and what did she go out and pick for not merely a boyfriend, but a _husband...?_ It was revolting, there was no other word for it. It wasn't enough that the foolish girl fell for a criminal, someone no sane person would want, but that she would become physically involved with it was nothing short of pure bestiality.

How could Roxanne_ do _this to her, her own mother? How could she make such her look so... so... humiliated_,_ after all she'd done for that girl?

Sheer ingratitude, pure selfishness, pigheaded, stubborn self-righteousness. It went with the Ritchi blood, and the girl had obviously inherited that, from her bright blue eyes to her firm jaw and those absurd freckles. If she had been serious about this broadcast career thing, she would've had those taken care of years ago. And if she'd had an ounce of the good breeding and common sense her mother had always tried to instill in her, she would've settled down with Randolph Duke when she'd been given the chance ten years ago, and not made her mother the laughing stock of the entire Midwest by taking up with that blue-skinned, hairless ape that kept escaping from its cage.

Shaking herself free of the tangle of irritating thoughts as she brushed away imaginary lint from her crisp pink uniform top — Kathleen adamantly refused to wear blue, even though it was the clinic's official color — she decided that she was ultimately none the worse for her lack of sleep because of the hated early hours today. At fifty-nine, she was still better-looking than almost any woman in the clinic, and twice as sharp. Just let them try to push her into taking those Saturday morning hours that no one else wanted, or the twice monthly rounds to the patients — they called them residents, but Kathleen knew better — at the River's Bend Retirement Community. She was better than that, and if they thought she'd roll over and take on the work no one else wanted, they could think again!

After finishing in the washroom, she picked up the heavy computer thing that they now insisted be used instead of a simple, sensible clipboard and pen and paper for patients' charts. The thing was annoying to use, so annoying that Kathleen was quite sure someone in the administration was getting kickbacks if the clinic used them. She'd been through training for them three times, and the idiots they sent to do the teaching could never answer her questions. Gross incompetence, nothing more — not to mention more support for her contention that all this excess technology served no good purpose in a medical facility. It just took simple things and made them needlessly complex.

On her way back to the nurse's station, she saw Ava Trent, the nurse in charge of the current shift, standing behind the counter and giving her the eye. Kathleen nobly resisted the temptation to glare back. Trent was one of _those _kind of women, she was sure of it. She had no man of her own that anyone knew of, she claimed to be totally dedicated to her career, and she'd swept into the clinic six months ago, right into the position Kathleen had been trying so hard to claim as her own. Trent had come from a job in small clinic somewhere in Detroit that gave free or low cost healthcare to low-income families and homeless people. Neither Kathleen nor any of her friends considered that the kind of proper administrative experience for even a shift leader, and so they'd concluded that certain favors must have been exchanged for her, a newcomer, to be chosen in favor of Kathleen, who had been with the clinic for years.

"Did you forget to put on your pager again this morning, Mrs. Ritchi?" the much too perky (in Kathleen's opinion) young redhead asked when she caught her attention. Trent spoke mildly and politely enough, but the elder woman heard the volumes of underlying criticism that she was certain were there: you're sloppy, you're forgetful, you aren't keeping up with the times, you're getting old, you'd better shape up or you'll be out the door before you know it, times are tough, and there are plenty of younger people waiting for you to get your fat ass into retirement and make way for them.

Kathleen's jaw clenched, though she hid it well, she thought. It was bad enough, needing to keep using her ex's last name because she wanted to remind them of her connections to the family (and everyone refused to use the entire hyphenated name, saying it was too long and clumsy). But she hated even more the administration's insistence that working staff wear these ridiculous walkie-talkie type pagers clipped to their collars like an electronic leash, so they could be whistled up like dogs at the doctors' whims. She'd said as much once at a staff meeting, that she considered all these technological crutches dehumanizing, but no one else sided with her, so she'd been forced to keep her opinions to herself, ever since.

To cover for her defiant refusal to use the thing, however, she'd come up with a number of quite plausible excuses to free herself from it whenever she could. "Oh, no," she said, pulling it from her pocket and clipping it to her collar. "I was in the washroom tidying up after seeing to Dr. Martinez's last patient. Came in coughing and sneezing without a mask, and I had to make sure she put it on properly. I didn't want to risk getting the pager wet and shorting it out while I washed my face, not after accidentally doing it twice last week."

Trent appeared willing to accept that. "There do seem to be a lot of respiratory cases coming in, lately. I hope it's not the flu putting in an early appearance."

"So do I," Kathleen agreed most emphatically, pleased that her excuse had succeeded. "Was someone trying to page me?"

"Yes, Mr. Monroe says there's someone here to see you."

A single crease of puzzlement appeared between the older nurse's brows. Who would be here to see her via the head of the entire facility? "Did he say who?"

Trent nodded. "A Ralph Thurmer from Metro City. The name seems familiar — should I know him?"

Kathleen had to think hard; her expression brightened as she made the connection. "Oh, yes, there was an Emily Thurmer on the board of Metro Mercy Hospital when I was employed there. A fine woman, she was the head of several committees to support and improve the hospital's nursing staff. Is this her husband?"

Now, Trent shrugged. "Mr. Monroe didn't say, just to get over to his office right away, since whoever he is is on a tight schedule and can't wait for long."

"Of course, he's probably passing through town. Dear me, I hope it isn't with bad news about Emily. She and I were quite close, even though she was a wee bit older. I wouldn't want to hear that she's taken ill."

"I have no idea. Head on over to his office, I'll make sure Dr. Martinez is covered, if he needs it."

Gladly leaving her electronic chart at the nurses' station, Kathleen clicked off the pager as she went down the corridor that would exit the clinic area and take her into the administrative wing. Privately, she knew that she'd exaggerated her relationship with Emily Thurmer — _if_ she was remembering the name correctly. The woman had indeed been all the things to Metro Mercy Hospital that she'd told Nurse Trent, but Kathleen had only met her once or twice; they hadn't been friends even in a vague sense of the word, as she'd implied. And she didn't know a Ralph Thurmer at all, but she wasn't about to admit that and look ignorant in front of Trent.

Dear Lord, she hoped she _was_ remembering the name right. The last few times she'd gotten called to Mr. Monroe's office like this, it was to defend herself against the complaints of patients who hadn't liked her nursing or her attitude. It would look very, very bad for her to have said all that about the woman at Metro Mercy, and have this turn out to be some patient with a similar-sounding name, come to the biggest boss with a grievance against her. She tried not to fret about it and instead used the walk to Monroe's office to pull herself together so that she came in at her cool, confident, and competent best.

The woman who acted as the secretary and receptionist for the clinic's three top administrators was talking with someone on the phone when Kathleen arrived. She saw the nurse, and with a nod and a wave of one hand indicated that she should head on into the big boss's office. That meant things couldn't be _too _bad; when it was a patient with a gripe, the secretary usually let Monroe know she'd arrived via the intercom, then would escort her in, to give those inside the office a few moments to prepare for the confrontation.

Kathleen wasn't about to take any chances, though, so she took a second to double-check her appearance and her composure before knocking. When Monroe called for her to enter in his normal, rather bland baritone, she opened the door and stepped in.

"Ms Trent said you wanted to see me, sir?" she asked, her tones carefully polite and neutral. The office was by no means posh, merely comfortable in a rather utilitarian way, clearly reflecting the fact that this was far from a major medical center. The administrator's desk was reasonably neat — he was one of the biggest supporters of computer technology in the medical community — though it had some of the typical desk clutter, family photos, two small piles of mail, a few professional journals that were either unread or positively dog-eared. A youngish man in his mid-thirties, Monroe's business suit complemented his chocolate-colored skin, even as it offset the brightness of his habitual smile. Kathleen had learned not to trust it within a week after he'd begun to work here; the man could smile cheerfully right up until the moment he brought the hammer down.

He looked perhaps a bit more relaxed than that today, still smiling as he looked up. "Ah, yes, come in, Mrs. Ritchi, I'm glad Ms Trent was able to track you down so quickly. Busy day in the clinic so far?"

What an inane question! "It always is the day after holidays, sir, especially in the summer. Ms Trent said there was someone who wanted to see me." She could see the man sitting in one of the chairs near her boss's desk, but felt it only proper for him to make the introduction, just in case. The visitor, who looked to be a little older than her, given his silver hair and lined face, did look vaguely familiar to Kathleen, although she couldn't have said exactly why. He wasn't a bad looking fellow, on the tall side, broad shoulders, neatly trimmed full mustache, and remarkably green eyes. For a moment, she felt a pang of envy, wishing her own eyes were so vividly colored, but she instantly dismissed it as very likely a product of tinted contacts, the older man using what was likely a necessary evil to strengthen aging eyes as an excuse to also enhance them.

"Yes indeed," Monroe said quite cheerfully, without the edge that would otherwise make her think he was setting her up for the kill. "Nurse Ritchi, this is Ralph Thurmer of the Michigan DOC."

Kathleen nodded to the older man, acknowledging both the introduction and the person. "I'm not certain, but I believe I know your wife, Mr. Thurmer. Emily Thurmer, on the board of directors of Metro Mercy Hospital?"

Thurmer paused long enough to blink, then nodded in return. "Oh, yes, you used to work there, didn't you?"

She smiled, relieved to have been right. "Some years ago, of course, when I still lived in Metro City. I admired the work your wife did, but I must admit, I haven't kept in touch with the people I worked with, back then. I trust she's still active and in good health?"

The gray-haired man's smile was wry. "Good enough still to go traveling on a moment's notice, though she isn't with me today."

"Yes, I see. Ms Trent said you were here to see me?"

Monroe cleared his throat, still smiling. "Ah, yes, that. Mr. Thurmer's just in town for the day, and while he's here, he wanted to do a little informal information gathering for the Metro City police department."

Kathleen's eyes widened. "The police department?" she exclaimed. "What does their police department want with me?"

"Not exactly the police department, Mrs. Ritchi," Thurmer clarified, lightly rubbing his chin. "I have connections with most of Metro... Sssity's courts and law enforcement services, because of my connections to the prisons. I'm no longer with the DOC, of course, but I still like to help out where and when I can, and there have been some unusual cases popping up, lately. You _are _Roxanne Ritchi's mother, aren't you?"

Now Kathleen remembered why this man seemed vaguely familiar. While she and Roxie had still be on amiable terms, they had had their share of heated discussions about her serial kidnappings and the creature who was responsible for them, and at some point the name of the prison warden had come up. Roxie hadn't enjoyed the disruptions the criminal had forced on her life, but she had never had him charged for them, either. Kathleen had felt her daughter was being a reckless fool, but Roxie had always insisted that though the alien thing kept threatening her, he never actually intended to hurt her. She'd told her mother that she knew some things about the ridiculously-named Megamind's past, and that she actually felt sorry for him in some ways.

Kathleen had scoffed and tried to make her see reason, but Roxie never listened, so when the girl lost her mind and actually took up with the alien, she'd washed her hands of the whole affair, and her daughter. Let Roxie come to her and admit her mistakes when the whole thing finally fell apart! It wouldn't be long, of that Kathleen was sure, never mind that they'd only been married for a week or two. Perhaps Thurmer's appearance was an indication that someone other than Kathleen was opposed to their relationship; perhaps he was seeking help in getting that perverted criminal back behind bars.

The woman swallowed several times to wet her throat while she quickly pondered the possibilities. "Yes, I am," she finally acknowledged. "Is my daughter in some kind of trouble?" She hoped not; it would be a terrible inconvenience if they expected her to do something about it.

To her relief, Thurmer shook his head. "Not with the law, no. But it's come to my attention that she may be facing some difficulties due to certain recent activities involving the criminal world."

That was an odd way of saying that Roxie might be in trouble because of her foolish decision to _marry _a career criminal, but she supposed it wouldn't be polite if he'd come right out and said that, not just to the girl's mother but in front of a complete stranger.

Monroe seemed to pick up on this as well, choosing that particular moment to stand up. "Yes, and I imagine you don't need me hanging around, listening in on a private matter, especially not when I have my weekly meeting with the department heads in five minutes. If you need me for anything, Mr...Thurmer, just have my secretary page me. These staff meetings are usually so boring, I'm always looking for an excuse to get out early."

When he was gone and the door closed behind him, Thurmer gestured for Kathleen to take a seat in the other visitor's chair. She did so without hesitation, and also without bothering to look very closely at his expression as he leaned back in his own chair. "I'm not sure how much information I'll be able to give you about Roxie," she said as she settled into the comfortable overstuffed chair, glad for the opportunity to sit down. "I haven't spoken with her in... oh, it must be almost two years, now."

"Two years and two months," was the retired warden's curious answer. "But actually, this isn't about anything she's done recently."

"Really? I should think you might have concerns about her involvement with one of your inmates."

"Former inmates," he corrected.

She sniffed. "I suppose technically, that's true, but you do know what they say about how the whole concept of rehabilitation was a complete failure. One couldn't expect a creature who's been a habitual criminal his entire life to honestly change, not so quickly."

She didn't notice the way Thurmer's bright green eyes narrowed ever so slightly, nor the strange way they glittered as he fixed her under his steady gaze. "People can surprise you," he said in a studiously neutral tone. "But I didn't come to discuss any of that. What I'm actually interested in is what you might happen to know about a woman named Lena Albright and a man by the name of Stewart Mitchell."

Kathleen could feel the blood drain from her face. "Wh—why do you think I would know anything about them?"

As Thurmer leaned forward, he made the oddest face, something between amused and exasperated and... something else. Something... dangerous? Kathleen shook herself slightly to dispel such a peculiar notion. His tone of voice certainly wasn't threatening. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because Mitchell showed up at your daughter's wedding reception, where he first tried to abduct her, then kill her and her husband. And because as soon as that hit the news, Mrs. Albright and some of her friends started to act very worried about it — and because they happened to call _you_ during their meetings. _And _because before your daughter returned to work today, Maybelle Duke tried to pressure her boss into letting her control the release of any information concerning the wedding and what happened there — and she just happens to be your oldest friend. Now, if you were me, wouldn't you start to think that just maybe you might have some information as to what had been discussed, and why Mrs. Duke came away thinking that your daughter needs to be censored about something as ordinary as the press release about her own wedding?"

Kathleen swallowed again, trying to pull herself together. How did this man know so much? Well, she supposed being a warden, he did have a lot of informants and connections — but he couldn't possibly know everything. She clung to that certainty. "I don't see what any of this has to do with me," she replied primly. "Yes, Lena and Maybelle have called me a few times over the last week or two, but it was all about personal business."

"I imagine so. Personal as in what happened to Amelia Albright and how all of you think Stewart Mitchell was responsible for her disappearance." He leaned back again, folding his arms across his gray-suited chest. "The real question, I suppose, is why you would choose to help defend _him_ and not your own daughter."

Kathleen suspected that by now, her face was the color of chalk. She had to struggle not to splutter. "We are _not _defending him! Why, I never even _heard _of him until the news about what he'd been doing for years came out. Disgusting, perverted man! He certainly deserves to have the authorities lock him up in prison and throw away the key!"

"Oh, I agree," Thurmer said with a crooked half-smile, now pushing himself out of the chair to stand, stretching his legs a bit as he paced slowly toward the door, across from the administrator's desk. "But Mar—Maybelle did something to make Jack Kincaid believe he has to go along with whatever she has planned, and my sources tell me that when you were teenagers, all three of you lived in Royal Oak, outside of Detroit. Considering that Kincaid went abroad for college and worked in Hawaii and Seattle before returning to Michigan, I suspect we might need to go back to your high school days to find what we're looking for."

This time, Kathleen couldn't hide the discomfort with which she swallowed, and with which she looked back at the man, who had come to a stop to her right, not far from the door. If his eyes had been some shade of blue, she might have described them as icy, at the moment. As it was, they were like some strange intensely green fire, practically boring right through her. It was unsettling, to say the least, and she didn't like it one bit.

The feeling of discomfort — along with certain other feelings she didn't want to acknowledge and ruthlessly suppressed — sparked the woman's righteous indignation. "_You _may be looking for something, Mr. Thurmer, but as far as I'm concerned, you're poking your nose into things that are none of your business. If you were family or at least a good friend, I might think otherwise, but from all you've told me, you have no right or reason to be asking these things. Unless you show that you do, I believe I'll return to my work and let you go play detective with someone else."

The retired warden let out a sigh that seemed bigger than his possible lung capacity. "I was hoping to avoid doing that, Mrs. Ritchi." The words sounded apologetic, but weren't. "Is that really what it would take to convince you to help me? Proof that this _is _my business?"

Kathleen lifted her chin. "Definitely," she said, quite sure that this would be the last word and she could go back to the work she despised only slightly less than being asked about things she didn't want to talk about.

Thurmer appeared resigned to it. He stood with his back to the closed door, and for a moment, the nurse was sure he was about to depart through it.

But he didn't. Instead, he smiled strangely, almost as if his resignation brought him peculiar pleasure, then raised his left arm, and with his right hand did something to his wristwatch. Kathleen thought that the thing must've short-circuited, given the bright electrical flash that followed, so bright that for a second or two, she couldn't see the man. And when the flash was gone, she was in for a shock of her own.

"I honestly didn't want to do it this way, Mrs. Ritchi," the blue-skinned creature before her said, his expression and his inflections betraying regret mixed with bizarre satisfaction at her horrified reaction. He was all blue and black, except for his eyes, which were still that same impossible — inhuman, Kathleen realized — green. And though he wasn't tall; the sweeping cape and high collar and large head atop a long-limbed, slender body gave the impression of height, but less so than the _presence _he radiated. There was no warmth in his smile, but there was definitely a fire burning in his intensely green eyes.

"Permit me to introduce myself," he said with a gentlemanly half-bow that Kathleen found more unnerving than gracious. "I'm sure you know me as Megamind, the current Defender of Metro City." He said the last two words with slight hesitation, as if he'd seldom spoken them before. "Although I'm also quite sure you still think of me as the Criminal Genius and Scourge of Metrocity." That pronunciation came more easily off his oddly pink tongue.

Kathleen found herself staring at that incongruously-hued part of him. Was he an alien, she wondered, or some sort of strangely twisted, heavily birth-defected child of two drugged out junkies?

Megamind seemed not to notice her interest in his tongue; he made a blithely dismissive gesture with one black gloved hand. "All in the past, I'm happy to say. But outside the limelights of my current efforts to protect our citizens and fight crime and carry out criminal investigations, I am merely Mykaal Thejhan, an adopted citizen of this lovely planet, and just recently — and most happily — the chosen husband of your daughter Roxanne."

The sound of the word _husband_ brought the woman's attention back to his entire face — and though he was smiling, the look could only be described as feral. "So you see, my dear Mrs. Ritchi, I _am _family. I'm your new son-in-law, and I _very_ much need to know just why and how it is that you are a part of what simple deductive reasoning tells me is quite likely a very misguided attempt to control and censor my beloved new wife."

Until that moment, Kathleen had always considered Megamind much as the press painted him to be: a ridiculous, costumed buffoon and a disfigured, disagreeable, stupid loser that should be locked away simply so that the rest of the world wouldn't have to look at him. When he'd started to kidnap her daughter on a regular basis, she'd allowed that the man was a public nuisance that should be put behind bars so that people would stop looking at Kathleen as if it was all her fault.

Now, she looked him standing not five feet away from her, those eerie green eyes fixing her as a hawk does its prey — and for the first time in many years, she felt genuine fear.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: And, as promised, the other half of what had become an extremely long chapter: The Showdown. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Chapter Eight<p>

From Megamind's point of view, he saw Kathleen Ritchi blanch and cringe, and he felt not the slightest regret for having caused it. He had honestly hoped that he might be able to persuade her to explain the situation to "Warden Thurmer." He hadn't known that she'd met Thurmer's wife some years ago, and though for a moment he'd wondered if that old relationship might help him now, he knew that realistically, it wouldn't. He had become much better acquainted with Emily Thurmer since his reform, and not once had she ever mentioned Kathleen Ritchi. If they had been friends, she would certainly have mentioned it, since Emily had always approved of his relationship with Roxanne — as her beau, not as her kidnapper, of course. But no, not one peep about it, which convinced him that the friendship between them was all in Kathleen's head, an exaggeration to make herself appear connected to a woman of true importance and influence in her field.

So, the game plan changed when Kathleen started to dig in her heels after he'd told her his reason for coming — which was the truth. Much though he wanted to torture her for every moment of pain and unhappiness she'd caused for his beautiful Roxanne, what he really needed most from her was any information that would put an end to whatever game Marble and Lena and Kincaid and heavens knew who else were trying to force her into playing against her will. He was grateful to Thurmer for giving him permission to borrow his appearance and identity after Megamind had explained the situation, but if this crotchety older woman insisted that the kid gloves come off... So be it.

The worst problem with this, however, was the fact that Kathleen appeared to have Roxanne beat six ways from Sunday when it came to mulish stubbornness. The initial shock of seeing his true appearance didn't last very long — or if it did, it did little to change her attitude. While she cringed, Megamind quickly assessed the situation, and couldn't see where to go from here that wouldn't turn out badly.

Oh, well, if that's how things had to be, he could live with it. Heavens knew that he had plenty of experience when it came to pushing forward with a plan that was rapidly turning into a no-win scenario. For twenty years, he'd been doing that on very nearly a weekly basis!

With all that in mind, the villain turned hero decided to go with the plan that offered the best probability to achieve at least the crucial portion of success he needed, while minimizing the potential for collateral damage to his new career and his attendant image.

And if that failed, he'd just do what he'd always done and wing it.

Things seemed to be off to a good start, as the imposing stance he struck between the woman and the door she was obviously thinking of escaping through appeared to be working. Oh, the brown eyes were glaring at him, but the face around them had gone quite white — until her cheeks flared red. _How like Roxanne when she's angry_, he thought. It figured that the state in which Kathleen would most resemble her daughter would be one of fury.

"I have no delusions about you liking me, Mrs. Ritchi," he said, arms once again folded loosely across his chest. The last two years had taught him that he made a better impression of being taken seriously as a threat if he reined in the extremely broad and wild gestures. He used to think that they made up for his general lack of size, but after watching some footage of his villainous career with Roxanne beside him offering critique, he'd realized that too much of the time, it just made him look ridiculous. That was acceptable in some situations, such as when he needed to put a nervous crowd of citizens at ease, but it was a total disaster in others.

This tight, controlled stance worked better in these very serious circumstances, especially with people who themselves might be given to histrionics. It also made sure that he was blocking the way, just in case she did decide to try to make a run for it. He continued in a mild voice. "Roxanne and certain of her other relatives have told me your opinions about me and my relationship with your daughter. I'm not here to change that; I doubt that I could. But I know that Lena Albright became _very _upset after the news of our wedding got out, and I think it's safe to say that she wasn't unhappy because she wasn't invited!"

The nurse had recovered enough of her composure to glare back. "No, I think it's safe to say that she was upset to hear that a girl of such fine breeding was foolish enough to attach herself to a creature like you!"

Megamind knew baiting when he heard it, and he responded with a dry laugh. "Now, now, let's at least try to be civil, shall we? That wasn't the issue, and I'm sure we both know it. Mrs. Albright didn't get upset about our wedding; she called in all her friends a few days later, when Leo Zalesky came forward with his information about Mitchell's past and why he attempted to abduct and then kill Roxanne at our reception. Now, I can understand why Lena would have been bothered by this; what puzzles me is why she went to you and Mrs. Duke and Cynthia Kincaid for help. We do have evidence that you were called, so I wouldn't bother to deny it."

"And why should I?" Kathleen retorted haughtily. "Is there something wrong with a person reaching out to their friends when they're upset?"

The former villain's smile was broad, though not friendly. "Oh, not at all — but why would Lena be upset that Stewart Mitchell was arrested? For that matter, why was she behind him being hired by KMCP in the first place?"

"He was the best choice—!"

Megamind half-snorted, half-laughed. "Not according to what Roxanne told me, or what I've seen of his work. And Mrs. Albright is a career homemaker. She doesn't know a thing about television production. And isn't it rather strange that she'd never before taken that kind of interest in anyone else the station hired?"

Kathleen made a sour face. "So she thought Stewart Mitchell had talent. Is that a crime?"

His smile now became thoughtfully sly. "Not having the ability to judge talent, no, that's not a crime — though in some cases, it should be. What's a crime may be that a woman with no experience in the field persuaded her husband to force Jack Kincaid into hiring Stewart Mitchell, who has been in the business of abducting and selling young women for much longer than the three years he worked at KMCP. And Lena Albright hired him only a year before her own granddaughter disappeared. I'm not saying that she was responsible for a possible abduction, but why would a woman of her status insist on hiring Mitchell, and then become upset when he's finally exposed for the criminal he is? It couldn't be because she thinks that being such a demonstrably bad judge of character would reflect badly on her, would it?"

Now, the woman's expression turned smugly condescending. "Perhaps it's because the criminal was responsible for her granddaughter's disappearance, and she's afraid she'll never see her again! Really, for someone who's supposed to be so brilliant and such a hero, you haven't said anything that isn't perfectly obvious!"

Said hero remained unruffled. "Yes, that notion _is _rather obvious — and no insult to her intelligence, comparing her to you, but your daughter already made that observation. But I happen to know it's inaccurate. Amelia Albright was never abducted, and as far as I know, she never even heard the name Stewart Mitchell. She ran away from home to marry the man her father had forbidden her to keep seeing, and she's alive and well and living as Mrs. Justin O'Connell in Charlotte, North Carolina. I believe she's due to have a baby in a month or two."

Kathleen paled again. "You're lying," was all she could think to say when she could find her voice.

But the blue head shook with exaggerated regret as Megamind paced back toward the desk. "No, why would I? I found Amelia quite easily, not long after she disappeared and the police claimed that all their leads turned out to be dead ends. She told me the truth not because I found her but because she thought I might understand what it felt like, to be told what you could and couldn't do or be. I do understand, but I also promised not to reveal her secret, or her location. Although that was before the current circumstances came to light."

He stopped in front of the desk, leaning back slightly against its edge as he studied Kathleen, who was tracking his every move like a hawk. "Now, if Lena knew nothing about Mitchell's criminal enterprise, why would she even suspect that _he_ might have her granddaughter? And why would he have any reason to _want _to abduct her, when she was so closely related to the woman who had managed to get him the job he wanted, despite strong competition? The Albrights had powerful connections and could have exposed him — and sick as he was, I don't think he was far enough gone to take that risk, unless something pushed him. Do you think that's what happened, Mrs. Ritchi? That something pushed him into lying, claiming that he had Amelia captive when he didn't?"

Kathleen scowled. "I think that _you _are the one who's lying, to try to pry into matters that are none of your business!"

Megamind's mobile face fell into the patently feigned version of his sad kicked puppy expression. "Oh, now that does hurt! I told you, I have no reason to lie, and I gave it up even before I gave up my life as a villain. Besides, you said it wouldn't be prying if I was family, and you may not like the idea, but I _am _family!"

"Oh, we'll see about _that!" _Kathleen snapped, jumping to her feet, about to bolt for the unprotected door. Before she could do more than rise, Megamind drew the de-gun, aimed, and fired. The blast hit her mid-torso and pushed her back into the chair. When she was forced to sit again, the lower half of her body and her forearms were encased in a pale blue glow. She tried to push herself up again, but found that whatever the blue glow was, it was preventing her from moving any part of her body that it covered.

She shrieked. "Wh— what did you _do _to me, you... you... you _monster?"_

The blue hero clicked his tongue. "Not a very original insult, I'm afraid, but I suppose I shouldn't have expected more. I didn't do anything that will cause damage or be permanent, if that's what you're worried about. You're merely temporarily frozen in place, so to speak. Minion likes to call the effect _glued_ rather than _frozen_, since the restraint is caused by a temporary bond between two objects, in this case your lower body and the chair, so it's not entirely inappropriate — or absurd — to call the setting 'decoupage.' It was the only word we could come up with that fit with the weapon's 'de' theme. It won't last for more than ten or fifteen minutes, and in the meantime, we can continue our conversation."

Kathleen was livid. "You won't get away with this! You have no right—!"

Megamind's casual attitude abruptly hardened. "I have _every _right," he said coldly. "Roxanne is my wife and I love her, which is much more than I can say for you. You've treated her badly for her entire life; even when she was a child and it was your responsibility to take care of her, you left it to strangers because you couldn't tear yourself away from whatever oh-so-important life you'd made for yourself, not even long enough to go to her at _shkool_ when she was hurt or sick or in trouble!"

"You don't know that!"

The green eyes were so bright with contained rage, they were coming close to achieving the laser effect of the retired Metro Man. "Oh, yes, I _do_ know that! Even though I didn't fully understand it at the time, I saw the proof in her records years ago, and I haven't told Roxanne because I don't want her wasting one second more of her life feeling pain over the fact that her own mother never gave a damn about her! You are _not _going to hurt her again and ruin what she's worked so hard to achieve without your help, not if I have to chain you to that chair and pump you full of sodium pentathol to get a straight answer out of you!"

"You wouldn't dare," Kathleen began, then stopped. He had already dared to "glue" her to her seat, so effectively that she couldn't move more than the uppermost part of her shoulders and her head. And she had a sinking feeling that Mr. Monroe had known exactly who "Warden Thurmer" was in truth, and that if Megamind asked him for further help — including a dose of the sedative that was also the most well known 'truth serum' — he would give it. Monroe had been an annoyance to Kathleen for the past two years, as he showed great interest in Roxanne and her alien boyfriend. He firmly believed that it was possible for people who had had a bad start in life and had gone down the wrong roads to make good, if others showed them support and offered helping hands when they needed them to stay on course. Typical for a colored man, she'd always thought, no doubt coming from an underprivileged background himself. She'd always suspected that her unwillingness to discuss the subject had put her on Monroe's bad side.

But she remained stubborn. "I don't have to tell you anything," she said tightly.

"You don't," Megamind agreed. "I _could_ force you, but then I'm sure you'd try to use it against me, and I won't give you that satisfaction. But I'm not giving up so easily. If you knew anything about your daughter, or me, you'd know that she says that my best quality is never backing down from a fight even when I know I have no chance of winning. I prefer to call it phenomenal tenacity. An inventor never gets anywhere if he gives up too easily."

He idly twirled the still unholstered de-gun around one finger. "So we can do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way is you tell me what I need to know, I leave, you go back to work, and we never need to see each other again — unless you try again to hurt Roxanne or make trouble for her. The hard way is we sit here until you give up and tell me — because I _won't_ give up, I promise you. I know for a fact that you, Maybelle, and Kincaid have a personal history that goes back a long way, and I strongly suspect that this history is what prompted Lena Albright to call you into her little conspiracy: you had something on him that could be used against him."

He stopped playing with the gun, but conspicuously didn't return it to its holster. "I don't care about you personally or any reputation you want to protect; frankly, I'd rather just let you live out the rest of your pathetic life as you want, only without involving Roxanne in it. She is the only thing I care about in this twisted little scenario, and one way or another, I _will _find out just why controlling her is so important to its success. It's your choice as to how we do this."

He grinned impishly. "Oh, and if you have any ideas about swearing at me or calling me names again, I should let you know that this decoupage setting works wonderfully for gluing a person's mouth shut, too. It would mean I'd have to wait until it wears off to get my answer, but I can be very patient, when I want to be."

When the woman's brown eyes widened just a touch fearfully, he pushed away from the desk to stand straight again and holstered the de-gun, but made certain that it remained in plain view. "Now," he said casually, "would you like to save us both any further unpleasantness and tell me what I need to know?"

Her answer was silence, with a stubborn glare that plainly said, "Go to hell."

Megamind hadn't actually expected more, though he'd wistfully hoped for it. "Fine, have it your way — for now. Since I don't expect I'll see you again, I can use the time until you see reason to chat about other things. Your daughter, for instance. It seems obvious to me that you have absolutely no idea how wonderful a person Roxanne grew to be — no thanks to you or your ex-husband, she tells me, unless it was by giving her horrible examples of how _not _to behave. I've admired her strength and courage since the first time I met her—"

"Yes," Kathleen snarled, putting all her anger and frustration into her voice and expression, since other movement was denied her. "So much that you had to kidnap her, over and over! You and Mitchell, you're both alike!"

The blue genius' casual attitude dropped immediately. "Don't _ever _compare me to that worthless piece of sewer slime," he warned, meaning it. "For one thing, I have _always _taken great care to ensure Roxanne's safety — in fact, I believe she'd told you she suspected it, back when you still deigned to talk with her. She was right. And the reason I first kidnapped her was due to her own stubbornness. The first time we met was when I happened to find her already being held captive by a group of thugs who were about to kill her for having accidentally witnessed a savage gang-related murder they'd just committed. They'd forced her to witness a second execution and were arguing over whether or not to rape her before killing her in the same horrific way when I happened to come close enough to overhear what was going on and stop it. Whatever else anyone might say of me, I am not and never have been a killer, or a rapist."

Kathleen made an very unladylike sound. "Really," she said, her tone flatly disbelieving. "You tried to kill that Metro Man person... how many times?"

_"__T__ried _is the operative term. Killing him was impossible, as has been proven more times than I care to count. Ultimately, all I wanted was to get rid of him, to get him to go away and leave me alone."

"So you could take over the city and terrorize innocent people?"

"Ultimately?" He shook his head. "So I could _live,_ Mrs. Ritchi, a free and normal life like anyone else — something that had been denied me since the moment I arrived on this planet and landed in a prison. I was just a baby, and I had no control over where I wound up. On any sane world, no baby would have been kept in a prison — but I was. And the first time I was allowed to leave it to go to _shkool_, to be with children my own age and to learn, _he _was there, ready to stand in my way and make everyone believe that I was their enemy because I looked different, no matter how hard I tried to be good and to fit in."

"Well, if you're so smart, you should've known _that _would never happen!" the woman scoffed. "Look at yourself!" She swept him from head to toe with a scathing eye. "There's no way on earth you could ever fit in and be accepted, looking like a monstrous freak!"

Megamind's weak smile was brittle. "No, no way on Earth, especially when so many people seem to have your attitude and were never willing to look beyond my appearance. It's strange, though, that you've managed to make this conversation about me, when I was trying to talk about your daughter. Getting back to that, I met Roxanne when I saved her life that night, but she had some dreadful injuries and the horror of what she'd been forced to witness and what had already been done to her made her forget everything that had happened. I suspect if she told you about it at the time, she said that she'd been in a gas main explosion and that her life had been saved by Metro Man. Now, she knows what actually happened."

Kathleen still refused to believe him. "Then why didn't she ever tell me that?"

The reformed felon was getting thoroughly sick of her righteous attitude. "Because by the time she remembered, you'd already stopped talking to her! That first kidnapping was an act of total frustration! I hadn't known she'd repressed the memory of that night, and after Wayne had given her her first major interview, I'd thought that she might like to do an interview with me, just for the sake of journalistic integrity, showing both sides of the story. She turned me down for months, treated me just like everyone else did, cruelly, and I couldn't understand why someone would be so cold and harsh to a person who'd saved their life! For all intents and purposes, Wayne had been nothing more than an ambulance that night, carrying her to the hospital, but she thought of him as her big hero, the one who had saved her from the awful villain — me, the person who'd _really _saved her! I kept trying to get her to at least listen to me, and when she wouldn't, I finally got so frustrated, I kidnapped her just to make her sit still and listen!"

Kathleen sneered. "And that worked so well, you had to do it again every other week for ten years?"

Megamind sneered right back. "No, it didn't work at all, she still didn't remember, she still had me painted as the Villain, and once I realized what had happened, I wanted her to remember the truth! I kept hoping that if I shocked her enough, she'd remember that _I'd_ saved her, and maybe, just maybe...!"

Abruptly, the ex-villain turned his back to Kathleen, struggling to pull himself together again. He knew that all of this was in the past, forgiven, and that he and Roxanne were now together, happily and of their own free wills. There was just something about this woman's presence and the snide, condescending tone of her voice and her postures that stirred up so much inside him that he didn't like. He needed to stay focused, to keep control of himself and the situation. If he didn't, she'd bully her way into getting the upper hand, and he'd never get the answers he needed.

_Bully. _That was really all she was when push came to shove, wasn't it? Not Mrs. Ritchi or Ms Caldwell or even Roxanne's mother, not a nurse, not a society woman, just a plain, garden variety bully who was interested in only two things: being the center of attention and getting her own way. Two things she'd been robbed of recently, and for which she wanted the thieves to pay, even if one of them was her own daughter.

But even behind every bully, there was a reason. And as his constantly working brain continued to process all these bits and pieces of hints and clues, Megamind began to catch glimmers of what reasons might lie behind certain recent events.

He heard the frustrated sounds of Kathleen struggling fruitlessly against the adhesion field and smiled faintly. "Decoupage" may have been an odd word to call it, but it was effective. And, unless he used the proper setting or the requisite external catalyst to negate it, it would last for much, much longer than the ten or fifteen minutes he'd suggested.

Megamind turned his upper body just enough to glance at her over his shoulder beyond the flare of his high collar; one eyebrow lifted in eloquent amusement. "I wouldn't bother fighting the field," he recommended. "You'll just wear yourself out, to no purpose. I designed it to hold a person securely even in the most precarious situations — one of the various means I devised to make sure Roxanne was never hurt during my confrontations with Metro Man. Strangely fitting that I should need to use it now to keep you in one place long enough for us to talk."

He sighed expansively, turning to face her fully. "But I'm disappointed to be the one doing all the talking, so let's get back to a more important topic than me and my past. Lena Albright, for instance. You do know her, don't you?"

"Of course," the nurse said haughtily. "I was born and raised in Royal Oak, but after I graduated from nursing school, I considered Metro City to have a more promising future. Any woman who hoped to make something of herself in that area knew Lena, since she headed so many important community and social groups. We've kept in touch. There's no crime in that, is there?"

The smile Megamind offered was agreeably supercilious. "No — generally speaking. But some of what we're talking about is definitely criminal. Lena might have been concerned about Stewart Mitchell's arrest if she believed he had her granddaughter locked up and she would never find her again if he went to prison, but having lived in a prison for so much of my life and having seen so many different kinds of criminal behavior, I don't believe that's the case. To most of the world, Amelia has been missing for over a year, and from the information we now have about him, Mitchell never kept any of his victims for his own purposes for more than two or three months at most. He was greedy, there was always someone willing to pay his price, and the difficulties of keeping captives in the long term presented risks he wasn't willing to take. More significantly, Amelia may not have announced her marriage formally, but she also made no effort to hide the public records of it. After a full year and all the money Lena put into a so-called search effort, surely at least one investigator would've found it — if there _were _any investigators."

Kathleen blanched again, but this time she said nothing; she pressed her lips together more tightly, as if to prevent an inadvertent response from bursting out. Megamind saw this, and his inner smile broadened. Then he _was _on the right track. Excellent.

"So," he went on, clasping his hands behind his back as he paced in front of the restrained woman. "Let's review what we know. First, Lena Albright leans on her husband to force Jack Kincaid to hire Mitchell, despite there being better qualified and certainly more prestigious applicants for the position. Then, Amelia Albright disappears, but the official investigators all give up the hunt for her within a few weeks, even though she ultimately isn't that difficult to find. Granted, I managed it very quickly because of my personal abilities and resources, but any competent — or even half-competent — investigators could've located her within a few months, at most. And yet, they didn't. Now, considering all the money Lena was spending to locate her, doesn't it seem the least bit strange to you that _nothing _was found, not even a single little clue after the authorities threw in the trowel?"

He mangled the euphemism on purpose, as he did many phrases and mispronounced words, seeking a reaction. He got one: stony silence, not even the slightest indication that Kathleen noticed his mistake, something that arrogant socialites were quick to pounce on to prove their superiority. Oh, yes, he was definitely on the right track. He pressed on.

"Well, maybe it doesn't seem odd to you, but it does to me. Most people who invest in something, even a cause, expect to get something to show for their money. I'm not quite so picky about such things, but if I were trying to find someone I loved who was quite possibly in great danger, I would certainly want results! But here was Amelia, out in plain sight in a large city, and quite easily traceable, even without special sources or means of tracking. But the search went on, money kept being paid to someone — and even stranger, the person providing the funds wasn't either of the girl's parents, but her grandmother! Is it possible that Amelia's parents were about as interested in her welfare as you were about Roxanne's?"

The dig was deliberate, and it produced a strong and rather unusual response. "Amelia's parents loved her. But they didn't have the financial resources to keep making the payments!"

_Interesting, _Megamind thought. Not only that she said _payments, _but that she insisted Amelia's parents loved her — and yet didn't protest his blunt statement that _she_ didn't love Roxanne. The latter told him a lot about his new mother-in-law, to be filed away for the time being while he pursued more important issues.

"Ah, but payments for _what?" _he demanded to know, at his dramatic Holmesian detective best. "We've already established that Mitchell didn't have Amelia, and he wasn't likely to claim he did unless something had happened to make him need leverage against Lena Albright, or someone she was defending. Now, if it only involved her or her husband, why would she have called on all her lady friends, yourself included — and why would the lot of you think it necessary to control Roxanne and censor her work? It's obvious that something is being hidden, and that someone involved is afraid that Roxanne holds the key to exposing it."

Kathleen had gone back to stony silence, so Megamind planted both hands on the arms of her chair and leaned forward to get in her face and look her right in the eye. "You don't _have_ to tell me what it is, Mrs. Ritchi, because frankly, it doesn't matter. This afternoon, Roxanne and I are planning to hold a press conference to officially announce our marriage to the city and answer questions concerning it. And if you don't tell me what you and Maybelle Duke are holding over Jack Kincaid to push him into trying to silence Roxanne, I'm going to make an announcement of my own, about how I found the 'missing' Amelia Albright over a year ago, how her grandmother apparently paid off the police and other agencies to stop the official investigation, how she's using the smokescreen of a so-called search as a means to siphon funds from her husband's company to pay hush money to someone who obviously isn't looking for the girl, and how the whole conspiracy involves Mrs. Duke, the Kincaids, and you."

Kathleen's jaw clenched. "You wouldn't! You have no proof...!"

"I have all the proof I need to raise questions in the minds of a _lot _of people, a lot of very _important _people. I know that the police detectives and federal agents hate to be made to look like fools, and the only thing they hate more is to be made to look as if they're on the take. The suspicions alone are enough to give that impression, and I have enough concrete evidence to make it look like much more than a suspicion. And to protect Roxanne, I would do anything. _Anything."_ He placed such heavy emphasis on the final word, there could be no doubt that he was in dead earnest.

Kathleen glared back at the very green eyes so close to her own, and in the heat she could feel radiating off them, she knew he meant every word he said. She tried her best to stare him down, but the alien didn't flinch or even blink. Finally, she was first to break eye contact, snapping her head away, and he knew that the upper hand was his.

Megamind pulled back slightly, his arms still braced on the chair but no longer so directly in her face. "You don't _have_ to tell me anything," he said, firmly but not aggressively. "I can go public with what I already know, and let the court of public opinion decide how the chips will fall for all of you. For myself, I wouldn't care if they ripped you to shreds for all sorts of crimes they imagine you might've committed; it's been done to me often enough when I wasn't even the one responsible. But as I've said, I love Roxanne more than anything else in this world, myself included. For her sake, I'm giving you a chance to do what's in your own best interests and tell me the truth _before _the media gets hold of it and decides what they want the truth to be. I can guarantee you, they won't be kind to any of you just because you think you're above them. If there's anything the masses love more than seeing a villain fall, it's dragging the rich and famous and influential snobs off the pedestals of self-importance they built for themselves."

With that said, the ex-villain withdrew completely, stepping back to the desk area to give her space and a few moments to consider what he'd said. He didn't believe she would tell him all there was to know; her type always tried to massage things to save their own skins. He expected her first priority to be saving her own image, not for Roxanne's sake but wholly for her own. And he suspected that her priority was the same when it came to all her friends. If Lena was going down, Kathleen wouldn't let herself get dragged down with her.

More than a full minute dragged on in near total silence while Megamind appeared to busy himself with studying the various diplomas and certificates Mr. Monroe had displayed on the wall near his desk. He could hear Kathleen's quickened breathing and the grinding of her teeth, as if she was struggling hard to literally chew upon this decision. She finally spat it out, not kindly, but not loudly either.

"None of this is my fault, I want you to know that right now, so don't you _dare _try to twist it into making it sound that way!" she warned.

The blue hero remained quite calm as he turned back toward her. "Now, why would I want to do that? Anything that makes you look bad might reflect on Roxanne, and I wouldn't stand for it!" He meant that he wouldn't stand for her wrongdoings to in any way adversely affect his wife, but he knew she'd take it to mean whatever most profited her.

He was correct. "Just so we understand one another," she said primly. "I'm as much a victim here as Roxie, after all. This whole sordid affair is because of Lena trying to protect herself from scandal, nothing more. Her sister was Stewart Mitchell's mother."

The green eyes widened with surprise. He hadn't known that — but then, he hadn't had much chance to do in-depth research into all the family ties that might be involved, and both the name Mitchell as well as Lena Albright's maiden name, Johnson, were not that uncommon. "And how does this involve Roxanne?" he demanded.

Kathleen grimaced. "It doesn't directly involve her any more than it does me, but Lena is positively paranoid!"

Megamind snorted. "I should think that the paranoid persons would be Mitchell's parents, not his aunt."

"Oh, but that's the whole problem! His parents were killed in an auto accident just after he graduated from college, about fifteen years ago. It was some family outing, his parents and Lena and her husband driving back from a long weekend up in one of those posh resorts on Mackinac Island. Maybelle's husband had been a fraternity brother of both Louis Mitchell and Sam Albright. They all went up in George Duke's big fancy van, and on the way back, he was driving drunk, lost control during the rain, and hit a concrete pylon for some overpass. A car behind them swerved to miss, but the truck behind that couldn't, and it plowed into the back end of the van, killing the Mitchells. Sam had lots of powerful connections even back then; he was able to pull strings and get the truck driver indicted for vehicular manslaughter, and he managed to get the fact that George had been driving drunk swept under the carpet, citing the wet road conditions as the cause of the van's crash. But somehow, Stewart found out the truth, and that his own uncle had been responsible for the cover-up. Sam would never have caved in to blackmail, but Lena would and Stewart knew it. He threatened to tell all their friends and the press the truth about what had happened to his parents unless she came across with money when he wanted it."

"And she did, for the last fifteen years," Megamind observed thoughtfully as the puzzle pieces all clicked into place. "She even arranged for him to get that producer's job at KMCP, three years ago."

Kathleen nodded, hating herself for giving the creature what he wanted, but hating Lena even more for putting her in this position to begin with. "He went into working for television stations when he realized how much power that gave him over his aunt. When he moved into Metro City to be closer to her, Stewart wanted more and more money to support his lifestyle. Lena was terrified of the damage he could do to her image with him right in the city, so she gave him whatever he wanted. She even tried to talk Sam into making him the station manager, since it paid the most of any position, but Sam and Jack Kincaid were good friends, and he didn't see any reason to deprive a friend of a job he was doing well just to make her nephew happy."

"That was good of him," the reformed villain quipped. "So when Amelia disappeared, Lena knew that she hadn't been abducted; she merely used the whole situation to set up a long-term excuse to make regular large withdrawals from her husband's bank accounts, and put them into Mitchell's."

The auburn-dyed head nodded. "As much as she could. She did have to hire some detectives and such to keep 'searching,' and there were occasional payoffs she had to make to certain officials to prevent them from picking up the case again. And I don't know who they are, so don't ask me!" she bristled angrily.

Megamind accepted her refusal with a gracious nod. "Of course, I don't expect you to know every little detail. But you're doing quite well; please, do continue."

Kathleen didn't know whether to feel gratified or insulted by his supposed compliment. "I always thought the boy was unstable, so it didn't shock me very much two weeks ago, when we heard that he'd been arrested for assault with a deadly weapon. But Lena had an absolute fit when she heard _where_ it had happened, at Roxanne's wedding. She was terrified that her name would be mentioned, and then everything would come out into the open."

The blue genius saw her point. "Hmm, yes, fraud, embezzlement, funding the establishment of a white slavery operation — of course, I'm just presuming he was biased that way, for all I know, he mightn't have been so particular."

When he saw how the nurse turned as white as a bleached sheet, Megamind smiled crookedly. "What, hadn't that occurred to you? If she's been giving her nephew money ever since his parents were killed, that wasn't too long before he started his little 'enterprise,' according to Leo Zaleski. Lena may not have been giving him enough to support the kind of lifestyle he wanted, so he found ways to invest what she gave him, so to speak. She could easily be named by him as an accessory, at the very least. And the same could apply to anyone who knew what she was doing and did nothing to stop it."

When Kathleen looked as if she might pass out, he allowed himself the smallest, most faintly wicked chuckle. "I know quite a lot about the way the law works, Mrs. Ritchi. I've worked on both sides of it, now, and though I was largely treated differently by the judicial system, I saw enough to understand what can and cannot happen. But at the moment, I'm not interested in seeing you put behind bars. I can understand now why Lena Albright was concerned about Mitchell's apprehension, and why it might worry Maybelle Duke. What I don't quite see is how _you_ became a part of the situation, unless they just wanted to make sure they had your support for whatever alibis they might concoct to cover their own behinds. You didn't say that you and Mr. Ritchi were in the van, that day."

The nurse's frown tightened to a bitter pucker. "We weren't. This happened after our divorce, and though Maybelle asked me to come, Lena and her sister thought it would spoil the whole point of a romantic couples' weekend, with me still being single. They wanted me to talk to Jack Kincaid about the situation with Roxie after they couldn't convince Cynthia to talk sense to him."

Megamind blinked. "Persuading the station manager to censor his star reporter was supposed to be talking sense to him? I rather doubt that..."

"It wasn't censoring, just... pre-screening, or whatever they call it. Lena and Maybelle wanted to be sure Roxie didn't mention anything about their connection to Stewart Mitchell, and they wanted to know exactly how much she knew, even if it wasn't in her report."

The alien sniffed. "That's still censorship. And they wanted to force Roxanne to be an unwilling part of their conspiracy, which is even more despicable. So you were called in to do that to your own daughter when Cynthia Kincaid had the genuinely good sense to refuse to manipulate her husband to act against all journalistic ethics. I take it your connections to him go considerably farther back than when he was hired to manage KMCP."

Kathleen's pale face suddenly flushed. "Yes — but what happened back then was _not _my fault! I was quite young, and I didn't know what to do!"

"I'll take that into account, of course," was Megamind's droll assurance.

It was as good as she was going to get, and having gotten herself in this deep, the woman figured she might as well finish. "Jack, Maybelle, and I all went to the same high school. Maybelle and I were in the same class, we belonged to all the same clubs, shared a lot of classes, had many similar interests. Jack was a few years younger, he just started his freshmen year when we were seniors. He was a dashing young man, left a long trail of broken hearts and swooning girls behind him. My own sister Lisa had a crush on him for a while. Three years after Maybelle and I graduated, we came back from college to attend the high school homecoming game, for old time's sake. I went off to use the powder room at some point, but all the restrooms near the stadium had long lines, so I went to see if the school building was open, to use one there. To make a long story short, I overheard Jack and one of Lisa's friends talking. It seems that she was pregnant, and he was trying to talk her into doing something about it. It sounded to me like he was trying to convince her to have an abortion!"

"Was he?" Megamind asked mildly. Whatever he privately felt about the subject, he was not about to let the conversation degenerate into a debate over the issue and their personal opinions about it.

Kathleen shook her head. "I don't think so. The girl had a baby out of wedlock the next year, though she told everyone she didn't know who the father was, that she'd been drugged at a party and had been taken advantage of when she was unconscious. When the little boy was a few years old, I recognized his resemblance to Jack, and when I saw him at a neighborhood store while I was in town visiting my parents, I told him what I'd overheard, and just what I thought of the whole terrible situation. He said that he felt bad about it, but the choice had been Marcy's, and she preferred to raise the baby on her own. He did help her financially when he could, but when he met Cynthia in college, he didn't tell her about his illegitimate son."

"But you told all _your_ friends about it, of course, and either Lena or Maybelle thought that you could force him to do what they wanted now by having you threaten to tell the secret to his wife."

"What else could I do?" Kathleen snapped, much more hotly than seemed appropriate. "They needed Jack to cooperate, for perfectly sensible reasons, and I didn't want—" She abruptly bit off whatever else she had been about to say.

Megamind didn't need to hear it. "You didn't want them to tell Roxanne that the same thing almost happened with you."

He spoke not harshly or with accusation, but stating a simple fact. When the nurse glared at him yet again, he sighed. "It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, my dear Mrs. Ritchi. Roxanne was born six weeks short of nine months after your wedding."

"She was premature...!"

One black eyebrow lifted, clearly disbelieving. "If you say so. Whatever the case, you went along with your friends' wishes and told Jack Kincaid that unless he allowed Maybelle to have final approval over any information Roxanne might release concerning our wedding and Stewart Mitchell, you'd tell his wife that he'd gotten a girl pregnant back in high school and now has a full grown illegitimate son. If I were him, I'd tell her myself, just to keep this from happening again. In fact, I think I'll suggest that to him the next time I see him."

Kathleen was appalled. "What do you plan to tell him? Don't drag me into this, I told you none of this was my fault! If I were you, I'd be careful with who and what you tell! You're dealing with powerful people, important, influential people, and if they know you're spreading tales about them, you'll live to regret it!"

This time, Megamind's laughter was more sincere. "After landing in prison as a baby and then spending over thirty years in and out of it, I'd enjoy seeing what they could possibly try to do to me that I'd regret! On the other hand," he added, all traces of humor or laughter gone, "if any of _you_ were to try to do something to Roxanne, I assure you, _all _of you will live to regret it."

The woman swallowed thickly. "Is that a threat?" she asked, trying to sound threatening herself.

The alien shrugged nonchalantly. "If you want to think of it that way, I suppose it is. In spite of what some rumors have said, I don't have strange mental powers and I can't control what other people think. Officially, all I'm saying is that I gave your daughter my solemn promise to love and protect her, and I _will_ protect her, from _anyone _who tries to hurt her or interfere with her happiness in any way. That includes _you."_

There could be no question that he was utterly serious, and would not hesitate to follow through. Kathleen continued to fume for several moments, trying to think of a way to make sure that none of this came back to haunt her. "Are you finished, now?" she growled, jaw tight. "Did you get what you came for, or do you have something more planned? Something to punish me for being a terrible mother? Don't fool yourself into thinking life with that girl is going to be easy! She's a stubborn, selfish, ungrateful little snip, and she may have you convinced that you're the center of her world right now, but as soon as she finds something new that catches her interest, you'll find your whole world turned upside down, and you'll be yesterday's news. That's all people are to her, news, fodder for her stupid obsession! She did it to me, she did it to her father, and she'll do it to you! You're a novelty to her, nothing more, a means to an end to further her career. She may have _said_ she's forgiven you for all those kidnappings, but you'll find out differently when she's got no more use for you. Just wait and see if I'm right."

Megamind studied the griping, babbling woman for several long moments. "I don't need to wait and see, Mrs. Ritchi. You're wrong and I know it. Roxanne _has _forgiven me, but you can never understand how she could do that because you can't accept that she's forgiven you, too."

Incensed by the remark, Kathleen lifted her chin in defiance. "I don't _need _her forgiveness! I've done nothing I need to be forgiven for!"

"I know," he said sadly as he pushed away from the desk and headed for the door. "And as long as you keep believing that, you'll stay the way you are, unhappy and angry and bitter. You'll never heal."

When he reached the door and was about to open it, Kathleen, still spluttering over his comments, fairly exploded. "Wait just one minute! Are you just walking away now and leaving me like this? I thought you said this would wear off in ten minutes!"

The alien's wide-eyed expression was pure innocence. "Did I? Oh, my mistake. The usual duration is actually a bit longer, about four hours. I could reverse the effect right now, I suppose, but — oh, dear me, I don't like the look of this, how low the charge on my sidearm is getting! I wouldn't want to need it for something _really_ important, just to have it lose power at the wrong moment!" It was pure bull and he knew it; the energy source for the de-gun was self-renewing and not likely to fail for another thousand years. But he couldn't resist; the look of horror on Kathleen's face was priceless.

Still, he was a hero now, and he also couldn't bring himself to leave on that note, appealing though it might be to let her stew in her own juices after all she had and hadn't done to Roxanne over the years. "Don't worry, though, I gave Mr. Monroe instructions for how he can release the effect, since we both suspected it might be needed. He'll be along when his meeting's over, and I'm sure you won't mind being sprayed with a bit of hydrogen peroxide. You should be used to that; from what I've seen of her, Mrs. Duke uses the stuff quite liberally. But for now, I have the information I need, I have a press conference of my own to get back to, and I don't want Roxanne to worry about me being late."

"Are you going to announce everything I just told you on the air?" Kathleen was plainly so terrified that he planned to do precisely that, any further complaints she might've had over being left restrained were forgotten.

To her relief, the blue head shook. "No. For now, there's no reason to mention it to anyone but Roxanne. But once your boss has released you, I'd suggest that instead of ranting and raving at him about letting me get away with this, you call your friendly little conspiracy circle in Metrocity and let them know that all your plans to keep Roxanne and Jack Kincaid under your thumbs are cancelled, permanently. Because that press conference is in..." He glanced at the wall clock near the door. "...about two hours, and if Mrs. Duke shows up, ready to start throwing her weight around, she's going to find that her actions will cause a terribly opposite and _very _unequal reaction. Do I make myself clear?"

"Oh, yes, very clear," the nurse sneered at him. "But don't think you've heard the last about this! You had no right to come here and do this to me, just to force information out of me about private matters that are none of your concern! I'll charge you with assault! I'll —"

"Do nothing of the sort, madam," Megamind suggested with a world weary sigh at odds with his stern expression. "I'm an officially recognized agent of the state law enforcement community, and I was acting to gather information and evidence under a reasonable suspicion that a crime had been committed, and to prevent further criminal activity. I told you, I know the laws quite well. If you insist on preferring charges against me for this, I won't be able to keep what I've discovered to myself and Roxanne; you'll force me to make a formal report to the police and federal agents, just to prove that I acted with due cause and used only what minimal and harmless force was necessary, under the circumstances. And before the notion of lying about what happened pops into your narcissistic little head, I should warn you that I've gotten into the habit of recording meetings like this, for both evidence and my own protection."

He stepped back in front of her and tapped the signet closure on his collar. Kathleen realized only then that a tiny blue pinpoint of light at the upper notch of the M had been blinking at her all through their encounter, visible ever since the disguise had been dropped. "It's not admissible as evidence in court, of course, not unless I'd warned you beforehand, but with a record to show exactly what happened here, which one of us do you think the police or a judge would believe?"

Kathleen was so angered by his attitude — not to mention his clever foresight in protecting himself — she couldn't frame a suitable response. After a moment's struggle, she bared her teeth. "You're nothing but a criminal!" she spat.

"Former criminal," Megamind corrected, so calmly that he amazed even himself. "The police have finally accepted that I've changed, and they'd be the first to admit that in the pursuit of real criminals, one sometimes needs to employ their devices. If you don't like the position you're in, then you should've thought twice before becoming a willing participant in illegal activities."

He abruptly turned back to the door, cape swirling dramatically about him with the movement. "I won't say it was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Ritchi," he concluded as her mouth fell open in shock at his blunt description of her predicament. "Because frankly, it hasn't been. Unless Roxanne happens to change her mind about the situation, I think it's best that we don't do this again. Ever." The green eyes glittered dangerously as he glanced back. "I trust that you won't give me any reason to return?"

Kathleen's contempt could be tasted in the air. "If I never see you again, it'll be too soon!"

Megamind smiled brightly. "Wonderful, then you _do_ understand! Ciao ciao, Mrs. Ritchi — and when you have your little chat with her, do tell Marble I said hello."

And with that, he swept out the door, leaving his snarling and swearing mother-in-law behind him, for good.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: Things seem to be going along a little more smoothly, now that this tale is headed toward the end (no, it's not there quite yet, though I'm having a few second thoughts about how to handle the press conference itself. We'll see). In the meantime, thanks to all who have been reading and reviewing. And to answer Oogy Boogy's question: Alas, yes, there are people who care about social status as much as Kathleen. For some, it's because they have it and feel a need to protect it, for others, it's because they don't have it and are trying to get it by any means possible. It's a very alien concept to us ordinary folks who don't give a hoot about it, but it's sadly much too common. Now, on with the story!_

* * *

><p>Chapter Nine<p>

Before heading back to Metro City, Megamind had the good sense to contact Roxanne and make certain everything was still going ahead as planned, on schedule. He was glad to find that it was, and even more glad that she merely asked if his errand was going well, not what it was, where he was, and when he would be back. They were possessive of each other and curious about one another's work lives, but they had also learned — from some hard and nasty experience early in their relationship — not to push too hard for details until the other was ready to give them. Both of their jobs often required confidentiality and discretion, and after a bit of struggling to learn how to balance their personal curiosity with their professional needs, they'd become more comfortable with not asking too many questions about what the other was doing during working hours. There were still occasional lapses, of course, but none so far that they hadn't been able to work through. Megamind had every intention of telling his wife exactly what he'd been up to, when he could speak to her privately, face to face. He used the flight back to think things over and come up with the best way to present it.

When he arrived at the Museum an hour early, he did so under the cloak of invisibility and silence, since by now, the press conference had been announced to all the local media. Reporters, camera crews, photographers, and the general paparazzi were beginning to converge on the site like locusts, along with a lot of curiosity seekers.

Seeing the latter made the blue hero sigh, as he was certain those crowds would include more than a fair share of detractors along with the supporters and merely curious. It couldn't be helped, but he wished that he could find a way to tell which was which as they entered the building, and have something on the order of a metal detector set up to dehydrate those apt to cause trouble before it had a chance to happen.

During the renovations that had added the media center and auditorium to the facilities, Megamind had surreptitiously added a secret hoverbike entrance, so that he and Minion and Roxanne could come and go by air without being spotted. Making a grand entrance was perfectly fine and exceptionally enjoyable when the occasion called for that sort of extravagant presentation, but sometimes, even the adoration of the masses could get to be overwhelming, and having a means of slipping away unnoticed was preferable to pulling out the de-gun for crowd control. He used that entrance today, coming into the concealed hangar on one of the building's upper floors without causing so much as a ripple of notice among those below or inside.

There was a private elevator leading from the hangar to the office level, and other non-public lifts and staircases were available there to take him from that point to the media center. Using the disguise watch to move through the office areas — having taken to heart the warning of Roxanne's mobbed reception at the Metro Media building that morning — Megamind made it to the thankfully empty elevator to the media center's control room without incident. As he exited the lift, taking a quick look first to see if it was safe to drop the disguise, he heard voices engaged in an amusing conversation.

"He's not going to kill you, Bernard," Roxanne was saying in the ever so patient voice that meant she'd said this at least half a dozen times in the past five minutes. "He knows that you hired that art firm because I recommended them, and he knows you gave them all the reference photos I gave you. It's not your fault that they screwed up on the posters for the November anniversary event. It's not like you did the art yourself."

Bernard's snarky voice was as snarky as ever. "They left off his goatee," the curator said in that dully snide tone that could make the arrival of the Pope sound like the end of the world — an exceptionally boring end of the world. He managed to make this sound like pure blasphemy, for which he was sure to be blamed. "How could they miss a detail like that?"

"It's not that bad," Roxanne assured him, causing one of her husband's eyebrows to quirk. And she'd always said she liked that particular bit of his scant hair... And then she clarified. "It was their mistake, so we can demand a correction and reprint. Just don't plaster the city with the posters until you get the new ones, or he'll send out all the brainbots with markers and have them draw goatees on all of 'em." Now, that _was_ an entertaining idea!

Bernard was never one to see the bright side of anything. "I suppose. Just so long as he doesn't think I'm responsible, and dehydrate me again...!"

Roxanne sighed, and Megamind could hear the roll of her eyes in it. He grinned. "Bernard, a day with you is like a day without sunshine. If you're worried about the two big promotional posters already in the main lobby making a bad impression with the press corps, I'll send Minion over with a black marker and have him do a personal retouch."

Now, the sandy-haired curator sounded shocked. "Oh, no, if you do that, somebody might think he's drawing a mustache on his own boss's posters!"

"Not a mustache, a goatee," Roxanne corrected cheerfully. "And I'm sure he can play it up and make it look like a deliberate stunt to promote the anniversary exhibit."

"But... wouldn't that be in bad taste?"

Megamind made his presence known with a laugh. "I wouldn't say you're the best judge of _that,_ Mr. Jennings," he quipped as he crossed the electronics-filled control room to join them, enjoying the scent of all the new technology in the air. "You questioned my taste the first time we met, and here you are now, the curator of my museum!"

Bernard jumped at the sound of the ex-villain's voice. Roxanne chuckled. "Oh, good, you _are _getting less afraid of him, Bernard," she approved. "I don't think you cleared even a foot in the air, that time."

The former librarian cleared his throat. He never blushed; it just wasn't his "so laid back I'm practically comatose" style. But he did so much throat-clearing around certain celebrities, it hadn't taken long for them to figure out that this was his substitute expression of discomfort or embarrassment. "I'm not _afraid, _Ms Ritchi," he replied drily. "Just... cautious. I don't ever want to trigger a repeat of the dehydration incident."

Both Megamind and Roxanne shared that sentiment, if for slightly different reasons. "I'd say that's a good idea," the reporter approved. "And for the record, Mr. Jennings, off-camera, it's Mrs. Thejhan, now, not Ms Ritchi."

Bernard's brown eyes widened minutely behind the wire-rimmed glasses he pushed up his nose, looking curiously at Megamind. On anyone else, it would have appeared to be an expression of doubt, but on Bernard, it was practically jumping for joy. "So, you _do _have a real name, huh? I always thought there had to be one — why would anyone send a baby halfway across the galaxy without anything to tell at least _him _who he is, what his name is, where he came from. But there was never anything on the public or prison records."

"There is now," the alien in question confirmed. "Though only recently."

"And after today, it won't be a secret, anymore," Roxanne added. "So get that 'I'm thinking exposé' look out of your eyes, Bernard. You're a respectable museum curator now, not an underpaid librarian fanboy who makes a few extra bucks writing lurid conspiracy books."

Jennings sighed. "Ah, the good old days," he said, his sarcastic tone completely intended for a change. He smiled, a quirky expression that wasn't exactly the look of pleasure that ordinary people wore. "So, the two of you really went and did it, huh? Went the whole nine yards and got married?" When they both waggled their be-ringed left hands as proof, he shook his head. "I was starting to think you'd never get around to it. Cripes, there were bets going about which would come first, the two of you getting hitched or the prison coming up with a cell that could actually hold Blue Houdini here for more than two days. The smart money was on you guys getting married, but all the pools figured it should've happened five years ago."

Blue eyes and green eyes blinked at the sandy-haired curator, stunned. "Wait, they were expecting us to get married _before _he gave up villainy?" Roxanne asked first. "What about everyone thinking I was Metro Man's girl?"

Bernard scoffed, waving one hand. "No one with half a brain bought _that,_ Ms Ritchi — sorry, Mrs. Thejhan. Two things: One, anyone who paid attention could tell you were _never_ into him. What girl wants a guy who's prettier than she is? And two: Have you ever read Niven's _Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex?"_

Roxanne hadn't, but Megamind obviously had; between the coughing-choking sound he made and the way his face turned purple, his wife was concerned that he was about to pass out, or was having a stroke. But he merely scowled. "Thanks so much for scarring my brain with that image, Bernard," he grumbled, his normal blue complexion returning as his breath settled again.

The curator shrugged. "Hey, I didn't write it, I'm just citing it. It's required reading for any girl who wants to get into a serious relationship with Metro Man — or was, until he lost his powers." From the puckered face he made, Bernard clearly had his doubts about that.

Roxanne had just begun to realize what the particular implications of that story might be and was in danger of blushing so hard she couldn't possibly recover before the press conference, when Minion chose that auspicious moment to join them.

The ichthyoid entered the control room from the corridor leading to the main museum. "Oh, sir, I'm glad to see you're back! I've finished giving instructions to the security brainbots and getting them into place. I was coming to see if it's okay to let the press corps into the main auditorium to do their own equipment set-up when Ranger One picked up something from the external security cameras." He flicked a switch on the largest of the consoles and brought up the particular feed that had concerned the head of the security bots. The monitor showed a group on the steps of the museum, carrying signs that clearly marked them as anti-alien, human-purist types.

Roxanne sighed. "I guess it would've been too much to expect them to stay away from this. Once the announcement for the press conference hit the news, they were sure to show their ugly faces."

Bernard frowned. "This being a publicly owned facility, we can't bar them from coming into the museum, not unless they start to cause a disturbance," he pointed out. "But the last time more than three of them showed up, we had to close two of the exhibits for weeks, to make repairs. Very _expensive_ repairs."

Megamind, who was still half in his detective mode of thinking and was also remembering what had just happened back in Grand Rapids, listened to the others' comments while he watched group of protestors outside. "Then ask two of them in," he suggested, stroking his goatee while he considered the situation.

All of the others looked at him with different expressions: Minion's concerned, Bernard's as if he was sure the blue alien had just lost all of his much-vaunted marbles, and Roxanne's thoughtful. "Do you really think that's a good idea?" his fishy guardian wondered. "I remember the incident Mr. Jennings is talking about, and it _was _pretty messy..."

"And expensive to fix," the curator repeated with heavy emphasis.

"I didn't say _let _them in," Megamind clarified. "I said _ask _them in. Invite them to send two members of their group to the press conference, not as protestors but as their representatives. Whenever these pests show up, they say they're the true voice of the people, so let them represent it as if they're reporters for a television station or a newspaper or even an Internet blog. Let them have a place, just not a big one, and one where we can keep an eye out for trouble."

"That's actually an excellent idea," Roxanne said with an approving smile, impressed. "If we treat them like members of the press corps, the real reporters won't stand for them disrupting things just to try to spout off some racist or religious manifesto. They'll get a chance to ask a question or two, same as all the others, and they can't say they were kept from being there."

The ex-villain's answering smile was smug, chin held high. "I keep _telling_ you I'm good," he preened. "In every way imaginable."

She smirked even as she turned to kiss his cheek. "Well, at the risk of giving you even more of a swelled head, for once, I'll agree completely. Bernard, you're the head of the museum; you should really be the one to extend the invitation."

For once, the curator dropped his typical sarcastic demeanor for genuine shock. "Me? But — but I know what they've done to the building! If they don't take it well, they could rip _me _to shreds...!"

"Not if you have subtle reinforcement," Megamind pointed out. "Minion, you're more imposing-looking than Mr. Jennings, but most people don't consider you a threat. Why don't you go with him as backup?"

The piscine flittered his fins for a moment, considering the request, then nodded enthusiastically. "Good idea, sir. I promise I won't dehydrate any of them unless they start to get violent."

As Bernard followed the ichthyoid out, his almost genuinely excited query, "You have your own de-gun, now? Can I see it?" drifted back into the control room, until the door closed.

"That was a _great_ suggestion," Roxanne told her husband after several moments had passed in silence, both of them watching the monitor to see what was happening with the protestors. When the moments became more than a minute, she looked up at him. "But you seem pretty... subdued. Anything you want to talk about?"

Megamind didn't hesitate for long. "As a matter of fact, yes. The errand I just got back from? It was to Grand Rapids. I spent about half an hour there, having a little heart-to-heart talk with your mother."

Roxanne's gaze had begun to drift back to the monitor, but suddenly snapped back to his face, eyes wide. "My mother? Why did you do that? And why didn't you tell me that's where you were going?" She wasn't exactly angry, but her mood was such that it could easily tip in that direction.

And he knew it. "Because if I had, you would've either tried to talk me out of it or you would've wanted to come, and I didn't think either was a good idea. Everything you'd told me about those meetings in Kincaid's office and what Marble was trying to force him to do to you made me very suspicious, especially when it turned out your mother was a part of it. I wanted to get to the bottom of it before Marble strong-armed her way into trying to take control of this press conference, too."

"There's no way she could." The reporter spoke with absolute certainty.

Megamind didn't quite share that confidence. "Directly, no, that's true; she has no influence over the Museum and its staff — at least, not as far as I know. With these _so-sha-leets, _it's hard to tell just what they've wormed their ways into. But you can't tell me you believe she wouldn't try to force her way into this press conference as KMCP's 'news' reporter, and that once she got here, she wouldn't bully her way into manipulating the direction of _any_ questions that are asked."

Roxanne considered that observation for a few moments, then reluctantly nodded. "That would be her style — and especially since she's already bullied Jack Kincaid into letting her have her way at the station. I've seen it happen at press conferences before. One person with a little bit of professional status and a lot of personal agenda throws out loaded questions after they use their reputation to get permission to speak first, and it riles up everyone there until the whole point of the conference is lost. And if we tried to prevent it by completely refusing to acknowledge Maybelle, that could have bad repercussions for the station — and could potentially make the network brass rethink the whole idea of my new contract."

"Exactly. Someone was holding something over Kincaid to get him to cooperate, and given that they all lived in the same town when they were teenagers, I figured it had to be either your mother or Marble. I didn't want to go busting into your workplace demanding answers, and I think that from past experience, I could say it was a fair bet that Marble wouldn't crack, anyway. But your mother was another story. She's never met me, I could play the new son-in-law trump card to get to her, and I had a feeling that those women didn't call her just to have an extra shoulder to cry on. There was something very rotten going on, something that was somehow connected to Mitchell and his criminal doings, so I could also give it a shot using the reasonable suspicion and ongoing investigation excuse. I had to work fast to get there and back in time, but I thought it would be worth it."

He was being so painfully open and honest, Roxanne couldn't maintain any real degree of irritation toward him. "And was it?"

"Oh yes," he said most emphatically, and proceeded to give her a quick synopsis of what had happened between him and Kathleen, and what he had uncovered. While Roxanne was digesting it all after he had finished, he added, "I recorded the whole thing just to be safe, so if you want to see exactly what happened and what was said, you can."

Her nose wrinkled. "Maybe later. When my stomach is feeling strong enough. This is just like these society and society wannabe types, y'know? They sit around in their big houses and private clubs and have meetings behind closed doors, spinning these little webs to catch juicy dirt and gossip on other people, even their own so-called friends and family. And the thing they wind up fearing most in life is the truth, because they're so immersed in lies and secrets, they can't live without them."

"Then you don't mind that I went and did this without telling you first?" Megamind had slipped out of his detective mode enough by now so that some of his insecurity was showing.

To his relief, Roxanne shook her head and smiled, reaching up to caress his cheek. "No — and don't go worrying about any threats my mother made about me turning on you when I think you're yesterday's news. I know you mentioned that because it did bother you."

"Maybe a little," he admitted. "I trust you completely, but... well, we both know I'm not perfect. I just wanted to be sure."

Still smiling, she kissed him softly, reassuringly. "Then _be_ sure. I'm not what my mother thinks I am; I never have been. She's an unhappy, bitter woman who hates the choices she's made and hates anyone who chose differently and is happy with their life. She's a misery-loves-company kind of person, and she'll never forgive me for not keeping her company by being miserable like her. That's why she tries to make me sound like I'm some ungrateful, attention-craving journalism junkie. I chose my _own_ life instead of hers, so she has to make it sound bad to other people, and she does it by accusing me of doing what she would do in my place."

The ex-villain's mouth pulled to one side in a wry grimace. "I thought that might be the case — what Phil DeVries calls 'projection.' She does something unacceptable, but she won't take delivery on her own behavior, so she projects it onto others and blames them."

"Exactly. I'm glad you've kept in touch with Phil, sweetie. He's been a good friend, and a good therapist for you — even if you insist you don't need one."

The grimace shifted into a small, abashed smile. "I may _insist_, but I'm not stupid enough to really believe I don't need it. I know what I've lived through, and there's just too much hurt inside, ticking away like a time bomb. I need to deal with it. I don't ever want it to go off, not now that I have so much to lose." He took her hand as he said it, wistfully wishing the damn gloves weren't so hard to get off and on.

Roxanne could tell from the look on his face what he was thinking, and she laughed, kindly. "You won't, Mykaal, I promise — and never, _ever _because I think you're 'yesterday's news.' That's my mother talking, about what she thinks of herself: old, tired, and useless — and she's been thinking that for as long as I can remember. She must've been born old inside. You, you're the only one of your kind on the entire planet. How could I ever think you're anything less than endlessly interesting?"

The abashed expression now turned suggestively wicked, in a good way. "I'm not sure. I suppose you'll just have to show me how you can, whenever you happen to think of it."

Her answering smirk came with a twinkle in the blue eyes. "Hmm, that shouldn't be too hard," she purred, slipping one hand between his collar and his neck to pull him closer for a proper kiss. Megamind had no problem accepting this particular demonstration, and happily drew the heavy fabric of his cape around them to create a little cocoon of additional privacy in which they could indulge themselves more freely for a bit.

The ever-so-pleasant demonstration continued most enthusiastically until they heard the sound of a door opening, followed by a familiar snarky voice. "I'd tell you two to go get a room, except this _is _your museum, and I don't want to lose my job," Bernard groused. "If you need help cooling off, I'll go grab a fire extinguisher. The museum's tech crew will be in here in a couple of minutes, and the press corps is starting their own set-up in the main auditorium."

Roxanne's suppressed giggle broke the kiss. Megamind wasn't quite so eager to end the moment; he let her lips withdraw, but left his arms and the cape wrapped around her. "Thanks, Bernard," the reporter said, the gleam in her eye promising her husband that this was only a temporary, but necessary, delay of the full demonstration. "I'm sure everyone knows exactly what this conference is for, but some people still get a little weirded out when they catch us in too many PDAs."

The genius' considerable brow furrowed, puzzled. "Personal Digital Assistants? How would they catch us in _that? _And why would anyone get wired by that?"

Bernard rolled his eyes; Roxanne chuckled. "Not that kind of PDA, hon. Public Displays of Affection. Some people feel weird about seeing them because they just do, and others still have issues with you being an alien." She stroked the back of one hand along the line of his jaw. "Though to tell you the truth, you may have blue skin and a big head, but I know plenty of so-called humans who are a lot more alien than you are. Like Bernard."

The curator's exasperation escalated. "Ha ha, just for that, I won't say that I think you're kind of a cute couple like I mean it. Just as well, here comes the crew."

The six video and sound technicians who took care of all those aspects of the museum, from the various displays and self-guided audio tours to the public address systems and audio-visual equipment in the media center gave both hero and reporter various words and gestures of greeting before going straight to work.

One — a tall, bespectacled, dishwater blond who was almost as thin as Megamind — grumbled as he took his place behind the central console. "Jeeze, Jennings, don't you think you could've given us a little more warning about something this big? It's the freakin' first day of school, and we've had at least six unscheduled field trip groups to deal with already. But a full freakin' press conference...!"

"Sorry, Henry," Roxanne said after giving her blue hero an apologetic peck on the lips. He accepted the token gesture, tightening his embrace for a moment before reluctantly releasing her, drawing back his cape as he withdrew his arms. "This was all a last-minute idea of mine just this morning, and I thought short notice would be better than too much notice."

Henry snorted as he noticed the image on the active security monitor, which showed the group of protestors arguing over who their representatives should be, under the watchful eye of Minion and a couple of security bots. "Yeah, I suppose if you gave those crackpots too much warning, they'd've bussed in loons from the entire upper midwest, and we'd have more repairs on our hands. When will these asshole bigots get it through their thick skulls that this one rock isn't the only show in the universe?"

"Oh, probably when our full-scale invasion fleet arrives and we _really _take over the world," Megamind remarked so seriously, everyone but Roxanne stopped what they were doing to stare at him. He arched one haughty eyebrow. "What, don't you people think it's possible? I could've been sent here as a scout, after all."

Roxanne sniffed even as several of the others snorted. "Right, a baby who knows next to nothing about his own planet is a _great _person to send as a scout before an invasion. Give it up, sweetie, you just aren't evil, and even if you had been preprogrammed to gather that information, either your invasion fleet's taking its good-natured time getting here, or they saw what info you had for them and changed their minds. Be a good superhero and stop giving the conspiracy geeks ideas for ridiculous new rumors."

"_New_ rumors?" Bernard scoffed. "Oh, that one's about as old as they get. I must've debunked the 'scout for an invasion' rumor every way possible in my first book. Or was it the second?"

"The third," Henry corrected. "It was right after that animated flick with the blue big-headed squid with twelve eyes came out, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, right, though didn't it only have four eyes?"

"I think it was six," one of the other techs opined. "Man, if someone ripped me off and then made me look so bad in a movie, I'd sue their ass but good...!"

"Sure, Vic," the tech who was taking the main sound board said with thick sarcasm. "You talk about suing somebody every other week..."

The obviously old and comfortable banter among the co-workers provided an excellent cover for the celebrity couple to leave and head for the backstage green room to get ready. Minion showed up shortly after they'd gone through all they wanted to say and had discussed a few questions they were certain would be asked. The protestors had finally settled on their representatives. After attempts at various elimination methods (including the classic rock-paper-scissors) had met with dead ends, they'd simply drawn names from a hat (or in this case, an empty fast-food sack salvaged from a nearby trashcan). It was as impartial a method as could be had, especially since other things like coin flipping invariably degenerated to the loser insisting the number of tries be raised.

About five minutes before the conference was due to begin, they scanned the house via a feed from the head of the security bots, Ranger One. There was quite a turnout, as they'd expected; Roxanne made a curious sound when she spotted the crew from KMCP. "Maybelle managed to come, after all," she noted, adding, "but not alone. Jack sent Marty as the cameraman, and Gabrielle Hoffmann."

Megamind reacted with surprise, Minion with pleasure. "She was your alternate on the weekends, wasn't she?" the fish asked, more of a statement than a question. The thirtyish black woman had been with the station for about four years, first earning her stripes doing remote reports of things like snowstorms and sewer backups, then later as a remote reporter for feature news on weekends, and most recently as one of those who were in the running to take Roxanne's recently vacated position on the local reporting staff. Of all the contenders, Gabrielle was the best, and thus the current front runner. "I like her, she's very good — though not quite as good as you, of course, Mrs. Roxanne."

His partner in heroism agreed. "I always felt she learned a lot from you," was Megamind's opinion. "I suspect she isn't here as Marble's assistant."

The brunette shook her head. "No, and Gabrielle has never taken any guff from Maybelle, or anyone else. I'm sure growing up in a tough part of Chicago taught her how to take care of herself. I have a feeling Maybelle's here only because Jack couldn't deny that this _is_ something for the social news, but Gabrielle's here to do the _real_ news work and keep her in line."

The hero's green eyes watched the two women waiting for things to begin, and could see that Roxanne was right. The aging socialite indicated to the younger woman that she wanted to move somewhere she preferred; Gabrielle nixed the idea with a brief word, a shake of her head, and a stern look. Marty followed her lead without question. Maybelle's frown was a weak and clearly unhappy protest, but she did nothing more.

Megamind saw her disgruntled demeanor, and smiled with grim satisfaction. "It looks like your mother took my advice about calling all her co-conspirators and telling them to back off."

Roxanne agreed. "Good, then this will be a lot easier." She checked the time. "You ready to go, handsome?"

He sighed wistfully, studying the scene of the media horde awaiting them. "Do we still need to? The whole point of having this news conference was to sidestep Marble and Kincaid and to get those manipulative females off your back, and if we've already done that..."

But Roxanne shook her head. "We can't cancel this now, not with the whole city press corps out there waiting. C'mon, I thought you liked working the crowds!"

He pouted, not quite childishly. "I do, but only when they get to be impressed by my incredible feats of heroism or the magnificence of my inventive genius! This..." He looked at the monitor and shuddered. "This is more like going up before a Grand Jury. They're here to pump us for information any way they can, not to smile and say 'congratulations.'"

The brunette smiled and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "Then just remember, your best friends when talking to the press are two little words: No Comment. So pull yourself together, Superhero. Remember, this is _our _press conference, not theirs."

The mobile blue face twisted through a series of wildly differing expressions, from pouting to thoughtfulness to stubborn irritation to peculiar amusement, and finally settled on a resigned but determined pride. He literally drew himself up, posture straightening as he lifted his head. "Very well, my lady!" he declared, striking his best pose of noble heroism. "Let us guard our loons — ah, gourd our lines — er, goid our— Let us prepare to enter the field of battle! Minion!" He summoned his friend with a flourish of one hand.

"Right here, sir!" his piscine partner replied, having been checking his own appearance while the couple studied the monitor. As he and Megamind had yet to rebuild his main cybersuit, he was a bit concerned that his first appearance before the press as Megamind's partner in crime-fighting would be while he was in a very humanoid robot body that required proper clothing. The custom-made, stylized biker leathers in his own version of Megamind's lightning bolt design were more blue than black (appropriate, with him being a fish, and helpful, since it differentiated their appearances in the field, even at a distance), and were easier to keep looking neat (lacking the flowing cape and the imposing collar), but he still wanted to make a good first impression. His own brand new de-gun was holstered at his hip rather than on his thigh, and he had just made sure it was both securely in place and at the ready, just in case.

Megamind gave him a critical eye, then a brisk nod of approval. He did the same to Roxanne, frowning slightly as he adjusted a bit of her bangs that had traitorously slipped out of place, then smiled and proclaimed, "Perfect. Ah, here comes our introduction," he added as the monitor showed Bernard stepping up to the podium on the stage only a few feet beyond the green room's door, about to announce them. "Shall we, then?"

Roxanne's smile was lopsided, quirked by his abrupt shift from hesitant to confident. Even if the confidence was half-faked, it was an improvement over reluctance or doubt. "That's the spirit," she approved, flicking an imaginary bit of lint from his collar. "No fear — it's the only way to handle these people." She kissed his cheek with a hearty, deliberately exaggerated _smack! _"Let's go get 'em, tiger!" And together, they swept from the room and strode out onto the stage to face their waiting public.

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><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: Well, gentle readers, we are finally into the home stretch, with one more chapter to go beyond this one. My thanks once again to all who have been reading and reviewing, especially through the periods where it was a bit of a struggle. My thanks also to my wonderfully crazy Muse, Dementia, for making this chapter a long one - because if it hadn't been, I would've forgotten to include one of the most important points of the story! (Thank you, long hot summer, for frying my brain. :P) Now, enough from me: on to the press conference!_

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><p>Chapter Ten<p>

During their planning discussion in the green room, Megamind and Roxanne had decided that he should be the one to make the initial announcements, despite Roxanne being the one with journalism experience. Though the hero had initially leaned in the latter direction, he had reluctantly agreed that if he started to let the press push him around now, it would never end. That was simply unacceptable, and so he had surrendered to the wisdom of his wife's suggestion.

As they approached the podium following Bernard's call for attention, Megamind started to have second thoughts. This certainly wasn't the first time he'd dealt with the media, nor the first press conference in which he had made announcements and answered questions, but this time, he was terrified of making a mistake that would somehow hurt Roxanne. When his confident stride slowed, however, she took his hand and squeezed it as surreptitiously as she could; the gesture of encouragement was therapeutic. Thus bolstered, the ex-villain continued on to the podium to face the awaiting hordes, Roxanne and Minion beside him.

It was a good thing that his memory was near-perfect, since if he'd had to deal with physical notes or a script, Megamind would surely have dropped them. As it was, he needed a moment after saying, "Good afternoon," to collect his thoughts. _Why on earth do these video cameras need such ridiculously bright lights?_ he wondered. Didn't any of their operators ever learn how to adjust their f-stops and shutter speeds so they didn't need to blind people with overpowered halogen floodlights?

_Focus,_ he reminded himself when he heard Roxanne clear her throat very lightly, prompting him. He continued. "We would like to thank the ladies and gentlemen of the press and our other guests for coming on such short notice. We asked you here today so that we could make several announcements that we hope will assuage the recently stirred-up curiosity of many people in our fair city."

No real reaction yet. Good, that was what he'd hoped for. If these people had looked even more impatient than they already did, Megamind was sure he'd feel like the live supper just set loose in a cage full of velociraptors.

He forged on. "The first announcement concerns my work as the Defender of Mmmme-tro City." The name came out _almost_ correctly, as two more or less separate words that didn't quite rhyme with _atrocity._ He could feel Roxanne beaming with approval; this marked the first time he hadn't totally fallen back into his deliberate and now habitual mispronunciation while in front of so many television cameras, some of which were no doubt going live as breaking news. "I'm sure that all of you can agree that this is an important job, and a huge responsibility. While my brainbots and many other inventions have helped make the tasks of the police, fire department, and other emergency services easier and more effective, I think that we can also agree that there are times when it would be even better if I could be in more than one place at a time."

Calmer now, he chuckled mischievously, almost but not quite baiting the narrow-minded bigots he knew were somewhere in the room. "Since I have no plans to clone myself, this of course is impossible! But what _is _possible is to extend what already exists not as a literal copy of myself, but to make it part of a true team effort. Many people think of Minion as just that, a minion or at best a sidekick, but the truth is that without his help and his intelligent foresight, I would not be standing here today, alive. He has been more than a mere assistant in my life's work; he has been a loyal friend and partner, as much a defender of this city as I have ever been — perhaps more, in some ways. So before this monumental task becomes too much for me to carry alone and innocent people suffer for it, I have asked Minion to become my full partner in fighting crime and seeing to the welfare of all our citizens and guests. To my immensely grateful relief, he has agreed, and I would like to ask all the people of Metro City to show to him all the support and respect you have so kindly come to show to me."

Someone in the audience started to applaud most enthusiastically, and soon most of the room had followed their lead. Roxanne gave the embarrassed but grinning ichthyoid a token kiss on the side of his habitat dome, and even the ordinarily blasé Bernard managed a few not energetic but at least sincere claps from where he stood to one side of the stage. Rather than risk further embarrassment with too great a display of bromance in front of the cameras, the new heroic partners merely traded friendly shoulder punches.

Things quickly settled back down, as many in the press corps had deadlines and wanted to get back to business. While the room quietened again, Roxanne gave her blue hero a look carefully shy of smug that nonetheless said, "I told you so." She'd suggested that they begin the press conference with the announcement about Minion, which, because he was so well-liked, would very likely set a positive tone and calm some of the potential hostiles in the crowd. Megamind graciously nodded his acknowledgment of her victory, and turned back to the waiting reporters.

When all was once again calm, he continued. "The second announcement..." He paused to roll his eyes and grin. "Well, I suppose that by now, it's more of a mere confirmation than an actual announcement. As of the afternoon of August twenty-fifth, Roxanne Ritchi and I were married in the town of Sevastopol, Wisconsin. The ceremony was officiated by the Honorable Alexander Crenshaw of the regional circuit court, and witnessed and attended by a small group of close friends and family — Roxanne's family, not mine," he added with a sheepish smile. "Except of course for Minion, who has been as much a part of my life as any blood kin. Since then, we've seen and heard many rumors concerning everything from the proposal to the wedding night."

The face he made when he said the latter was so annoyed and exasperated, it won a few brief laughs from the crowd. "While we can understand how wild rumors do seem to follow the weddings of even minor celebrities like flies to honey, we called this press conference to help separate fact from fiction and give answers to _some_ of the questions we know people have." His emphasis on the qualifier and the sharp look he sent in the direction of certain members of the tabloid press made it clear that there would be no discussion of private matters, or private parts, allowed.

When he was satisfied that he'd made his point, he nodded briskly. "First and foremost, we want to make it very clear that this was a choice both Roxanne and I made of our own free wills. It was not forced, it was not frivolous, it was... just the right time and the right place."

Roxanne agreed. "I know there have been a lot of perfectly ridiculous stories circulating in both the media and among the general public," she said. "About how I was tied up and dragged to the altar, how everyone at the wedding wore black, about a full-scale terrorist attack at the wedding reception. None of these rumors are the least bit true. As you may know from news reports, a single armed person, Stewart Mitchell, did show up at the reception and after failing to abduct me opened fire on first Megamind and then myself. He was stopped by the quick and effective action of Minion, who temporarily dehydrated him before anyone was hurt. He was taken into custody by the Sister Bay police, and was taken from there to more secure facilities in Green Bay for further questioning and examination."

She sighed, smiling. "That incident was the most sensational aspect of that entire day — of our entire vacation! We know that people like to talk and gossip, and nothing we say will ever get rid of some of these rumors because they are popular, but to help clarify and debunk some of the more extreme tales, we will be giving a press kit containing information and pictures cleared for distribution to everyone as you leave. Please remember that this was put together very quickly, and is by no means comprehensive documentation; more detailed materials will be made available to the press and the general public in the next week.

"For myself, I want to make clear that this does not mean that I have left my position with KMCP and our parent network. Both Megamind and I plan to continue to pursue our current careers. We decided to call this press conference on our first day back on the job because while I may work for only one of Metro City's television stations, Megamind works not only for all of the city but for this entire part of the country. After our return from vacation, we discussed the situation, and decided it would be best to share this first announcement with everyone in the region."

From the corner of one eye, she could see Gabrielle and Marty smiling and nodding, and Maybelle trying very hard not to scowl too obviously, and failing miserably. Roxanne didn't feel at all bad about the fib; they _had _talked about not giving KMCP a total exclusive, but they hadn't decided against it until after she'd been faced with Maybelle's attempt to take control of her that morning. The satisfaction she felt in watching the society bitch stew over her failure was much the same feeling that her husband had felt in watching Kathleen seethe over being caught in her own part of this tangled web of manipulation and deceit.

Her years of on-camera experience allowed her to continue without missing a beat, and without allowing her justified triumph to show. "Because of the recognition factor and my still very new position within the network's news operations, for the time being it is my plan to continue to use the name Ritchi as my professional surname; personally and privately, I have chosen to take my husband's family name, Thejhan, to honor Mykaal's parents, who saved his life rather than their own."

That caused a subdued but audible stir, not that his parents had chosen to save their son from their dying world, but that Megamind had any other name. That revelation had also been calculated, since the answering of old but persistent questions might derail some of the new and more troubling opposition. An alien hiding behind an obviously contrived name could be pointed at as someone too strange to be accepted, an outcast that didn't belong in this world. Mykaal Thejhan, a baby cast adrift in a tiny ark like Moses to save him from certain death... There was something very humanizing about having a real name that along with the familiar story of desperate parents saving their child might give certain people pause, and food for thought.

Megamind had to hand it to her: though he was a master of presentation on a grand scale, Roxanne was a true master of its subtle side. Touched again by her tribute to his parents, he gave her a soft peck on the cheek, which she batted away with a smile. Standing to one side, Minion cast his amber eyes heavenward and sighed, "Newlyweds!" in a tone that elicited fresh laughter from the audience.

Megamind gave him a glare of feigned indignation; Roxanne chuckled. "I guess this is as good a time as any to begin answering questions. I hope that none of you will hold it against me if I show just a little bit of bias and take the first question from the representative of my employer. Gabrielle?" she prompted when Maybelle began to look as if she was about to get what she thought should be her due. She glowered when the due turned out to be less than she liked.

The slightly younger reporter stood as she was acknowledged. "Thank you, Mrs. Thejhan," she said, nailing the pronunciation perfectly. "I'd had a different question in mind, but now that the subject has been raised, I want to make sure all of us in the Metro Media family get things right." Her dark eyes turned directly to the blue hero. "Your real name is Mykaal Thejhan?"

Megamind was pleasantly surprised to hear her say both words perfectly. He had to wonder if she was just that quick a study or if Marty had coached her, since he'd been exposed to it at the wedding. "Correct. I don't have a functional knowledge of the alphabet that was used in the language of my parents, since all my information came in the form of audiovisual recordings, but the equivalent spelling using the Roman letters of modern English would be..."

He carefully enunciated the letters for the benefit of those using conventional pen and paper or keyed devices to take notes. "The double As should be pronounced with a slight separation between them, but I've found that most people have trouble with it, and tend to want to fall back and simply say 'Michael.' To the best of my current knowledge, there's no similarity of meaning between the names."

When several other hands popped up, Roxanne picked the next question, from a reporter for one of KMCP's minor competitors. "My question is for Minion," the man called clarified. "Does this mean that you have another name as well?"

The ichthyoid cleared his throat as he stepped to the microphone. "Ah... well, yes, I suppose it does, but I don't know what it is. I don't have the kind of memory that Megamind's people do, and I was only a little bit older than he was when we were sent to safety. His parents apparently never said my given name in front of him."

The reporter was startled. "You mean, you _picked _the name Minion? Or did you just accept it because that's what he called you?" He pointed at Megamind.

"Actually," Megamind spoke up, "I called him that because of what I remember hearing my mother call him when she put him into the escape pod with me, which was the first time we met. The recordings I have from my parents have only provided us with a rudimentary grasp of their native language; if the playback device hadn't come equipped with an automatic translation system, I might never have understood even the few words and phrases I _do _know. My mother called him my _min'yaaun_, my protector, and when I repeated the word to the people who found me after my pod landed in the prison, it sounded to them like I was saying 'minion.' To people in that part of society, it was a rather familiar word, and so it stuck. I hope that someday, I can access more information in the recorder that was sent with me, but thus far, we haven't found anything to tell us Minion's proper name. I suppose if his parents had sent _me_ with _him_, things would be quite different."

The next question Roxanne selected was from a person with _Metro Money, _the area's largest daily business and financial newspaper. The neatly pin-suited fellow could have given Bernard a run for his money when it came to looking humorless, but he also had a predatory edge the curator simply lacked. "Asking from the perspective of our city's beleaguered business community, I would like to know why you chose not to get married here in Metro City. Surely you must be aware of the kind of revenue celebrity weddings can bring to an area, giving a much needed boost to tourism and other industries that are suffering in this economic downturn."

Megamind did his best to make the snort he gave not come out derisive. "Yes, and they also tend to put a financial burden on the police and emergency services, trying to deal with the influx of tourists and demonstrators. Paparazzi are bad enough, but would _you _want to run the risk of some villain — or villains — crashing your wedding because they decided it would be a wonderful platform for self-promotion or revenge?"

He hadn't spoken angrily, but Roxanne patted his arm in a soothing gesture nonetheless, before someone decided to use this as an excuse to throw his past back into his face. She offered her own answer while the former villain took the moment to step back and cool down. "I'm sorry if the local businesses and chamber of commerce feel that they were short-changed, but Megamind _is _right about security issues, both in terms of the risks and the strain on resources. Our wedding was completely unannounced, the reception was in a town of less than a thousand permanent residents, there were only sixteen guests who were virtually invited at the last minute — and we _still _had to deal with a literally crazed gunman tracking us down and trying to kill us! How much worse would it have been if it had been held here in Metro City with a full media build-up? Besides, we hadn't planned for our vacation to include a wedding when we left; I hadn't even known Mykaal was thinking of proposing — though I'd been hoping he would," she admitted in a gentler voice, smiling at him. "Doing it as we did may have disappointed a few people who wanted extra business and the fans who might've liked to be there, but this was the beginning of our formal life together. We started it in the way we wanted, with a small, quiet ceremony in a beautiful place we'd both come to love."

Megamind concurred. "Presentation has always been very important to me, as everyone here knows, and while it may come as a surprise, the truth is that this was exactly the kind of presentation I — _we_ — had hoped for. This was the beginning of our _marriage_, not the launch of a commercial enterprise or a circus! Romantic and intimate seemed to be a much nicer way to start than with some large, noisy spectacle. I know that to most people, spectacular would seem to be my traditional style, but..."

He shook his head. "For this, it would've been wrong. I figured that out after we'd been on vacation for a week or two. I'd never been away from the city before — not long enough to really appreciate the differences, anyway. I'm used to big buildings and even bigger machines and lots of technology and ear-splitting noise and—"

The blue cheeks flushed an interesting shade of lavender as Megamind caught himself running off at the mouth. "I learned about other things, there. Some were things I'd never seen, like wild turkeys and orchards and huge stone bluffs, and some were things I see all the time but never really appreciate. The lake, the sun rising and setting, what it's like to be out in a storm — nature the way it really is, not just in pictures. These are some of the things I'm trying to protect and to make better for everyone, and when I'd gotten over the stress and hurt from all the battles I'd been in since early spring, I realized that it was time to try to make more of a life for myself and for the people I love. If taking some business away from the city was wrong, then I'd happily be wrong again. It was what we wanted, and it really _was_ wonderful." The sappy expression on his face as he looked at Roxanne and recalled the day prompted a few chuckles and _awwwws,_ and a considerable number of camera flashes.

He winced at the lights, then pulled himself together. "The point is, we're sorry if we disappointed some people, but in the end, we both believe we did the right thing for the city, and what was best for us as a couple. Next question!"

Roxanne didn't object to pushing on to what would hopefully be another subject. This time, she picked a young woman from one of local newspapers, one with a lighter tone but not a gossip rag. "I've seen some cell phone photos of the wedding reception on the Internet, and though the quality was only so good, I thought your clothing and the decorations were lovely. Was your gown off the rack, or did you have a designer willing to work on short notice?"

Both Megamind and Roxanne grinned at the way Minion suddenly started to shuffle his feet. "Yes, we had a designer willing to work on short notice," the blue hero replied. "I don't know how much it's common knowledge, but because of my less than standard body type and the needs of my work, Minion has been designing and constructing my clothing for most of my adult life, with some help from a few specialized brainbots. It seems he's been anticipating our wedding longer than we have, and had some ideas already in the works when we told him we'd gotten engaged and planned to be married before returning home." He sniffed affably. "I suspect he's been planning this ever since I got old enough to notice the existence of females as something more than a necessary evil in the world."

"The materials in the press kit with provide you will better pictures than the phone shots on the net," Roxanne promised over the guffaws of laughter that his last comment elicited. "Minion really did a fantastic job with the whole wedding, with some help from Wayne Scott and a few of the local businesses, especially with so little time to pull it off. When some of the selected videos become available, you'll have a much better idea of just what a wonderful job they did. We're very grateful to them all, and especially to Minion."

One of the women from a small suburban newspaper was so eager to be recognized, Roxanne couldn't say no. "It is true that Wayne Scott was actually your Maid of Honor? And that he showed up in a skirt?"

There was more laughter in response to that, not the least of which came from Megamind. Roxanne elbowed him to shush him, but with a broad smile. "It was a kilt, formal Highland Dress, in the Scott family tartan," she corrected. "But yes, I did ask him to be my Maid of Honor, though I called it that as a joke. We didn't want the news of the wedding to leak out and spoil the romantic and intimate things we'd planned. Wayne was a good friend we knew we could trust not to tell anyone."

Megamind's faint grunt didn't quite disagree. "Though he _was_ the one who arranged for there to be other guests. He at least had the good sense to pick the people we would've asked to come, if we'd thought there'd be enough time to arrange it."

The next question was blurted out by a young stringer who forgot to wait to be recognized. "You considered Wayne Scott a good friend? _Both _of you?" He sounded incredulous, and from the looks on many faces, people were very interested in the answer.

Roxanne knew she couldn't answer for her husband, and Megamind was thoughtfully quiet for a moment, face twisted with indecision. Finally, he sighed, surrendering. "At first, I had my doubts," he admitted. "We'd been rivals for so many years — longer than most people realize, actually. But even before Roxanne and I left on vacation, Wayne told me that he wanted to... fix the fence between us. I don't think this is the time to go into all the details of what was said and done, but by the time Roxanne asked him to be her witness, yes, I had come to think of him as a friend, not my enemy."

That admission caused a buzz among the reporters. No matter how often Megamind and the retired Metro Man appeared together in public, behaving civilly toward one another, there had been rumors of it being a sham, something forced on them by Roxanne as a condition of her relationship with her former kidnapper, or something required of Scott in repayment for the months that he'd let the public believe Megamind had actually murdered him. Roxanne had a sneaking feeling that some rumor rag would claim that she'd ordered Megamind to respond as he had as a condition of their marriage, but there was nothing they could do to completely quell gossip from those determined to find it even where it didn't exist. This at least was relatively harmless.

When the next question came, she almost wished she hadn't selected that person. It was from the science reporter for the _Metro Gazette, _and in hindsight, Roxanne supposed she should've anticipated it. Why else would a science geek be interested in a news conference ostensibly about their wedding?

"Are you genetically compatible? Is a viable birth possible between our species?"

Roxanne blushed; Megamind cleared his throat. "Ah..." he began, looking for a polite way to put it. "Well, to begin with, I know that there has been a lot of speculation about my 'species,' how alien am I and all that. The truth is that my 'species' is about as alien and incompatible with yours as a Caucasian human is from, say, a human of Asian descent. There are obvious differences in our appearances, and there are some minor differences due to my people having a slightly more advanced physiology, but otherwise, I'm as human as anyone on this planet. Why do you think my parents sent me here? They wanted me to go to a place where I could not only survive but thrive. They'd hoped that I would be accepted, but..." He paused as a wave of deep sadness clearly washed across his face. "Things never quite seem to go exactly as we plan. I'm just glad that I finally _have _found acceptance."

"So then you _are _genetically compatible?"

The big green eyes blinked, puzzled. "Didn't I just say that? Oh, no, I guess I didn't. Yes. Genetically speaking, the differences between us aren't great enough to cause incompatibility. Procreation should be possible."

"Then is that your plan?" someone piped up without waiting to be acknowledged. Those on the stage immediately recognized him as one of the two anti-alien protestors. "To pollute Humanity with your alien blood by forcing one of our women to marry you and have your spawn?"

If looks could have killed, Roxanne's would have incinerated the man to a greasy little spot on the floor. Minion was fingering his de-gun, debating which setting might be most satisfactory to use on the cretin. Bernard was trying to get the attention of both human and brainbot security, in case things got out of hand when tempers flared. And Megamind laughed. Not a chuckle or a snicker, but full tear-producing, side-splitting laughter.

"Oh, yes," he said when he'd recovered enough of his breath to speak again. "That's right, you've uncovered the whole plot! My entire life's plan has been to produce an army of half-blooded children to take over the world! And it's such an evil, nefarious plan, I waited until I was in my latter thirties and picked a woman of almost the same age before beginning! Really, no offense to my beautiful and beloved Roxanne, but if _that _had been my sole purpose for getting married, I think choosing a young woman at the prime of her childbearing capability would've been vastly more logical! I asked Roxanne to be my wife because I love her and want to spend the rest of my life with her. There _is_ no ulterior motive."

Security hadn't quite grabbed the fellow — though Ranger One had him spotlighted, the security bots were under orders to act directly only if the person broke laws, became a threat to others, or they were explicitly commanded to apprehend him. The protestor's female partner put in her two cents' worth. "Oh, so you're saying Humans aren't good enough for you? That you wouldn't pollute your genes with our blood?"

Megamind seriously wanted to stick out his tongue at the woman. "You can't have it both ways," he pointed out with a cheerfully acidic smile.

Roxanne wasn't feeling so charitable. "And aside from the fact that you aren't following the protocol of a press conference, speaking as the human woman in question, I find your remarks to be narrow-minded, ignorant, and offensive. In spite of how our past may appear to most people, Megamind has _never _hurt me, and he has never even suggested the kind of thoughts or behavior you're accusing him of!"

It was his turn to pat her shoulder to calm her down, and while she was attempting to regain control over her temper, Minion stepped in to pick the next question.

The ichthyoid thought he was being kind to Roxanne by selecting someone from KMCP again, believing that they would surely be an ally to one of their own. But he hadn't heard the details of everything that had happened at the station that morning, and he didn't watch the Sunday morning news with its heavy emphasis on local business and society reports, so he didn't recognize that the person he selected was Maybelle Duke. By the time either of his friends noticed, it was too late.

_Predatory _was the only way one could describe the smile on the socialite's face, the kind of smile one would see on a wolf baring its fangs before it rips out the throat of its victim. It was the expression of someone who has been handed an opportunity to destroy a hated enemy on a silver platter. "Perhaps this whole issue of genetics and compatibility is really a moot point," she said in pleasant tones with an edge that could split a diamond. "Considering all the unseemly haste and secrecy in which this wedding took place — out of state, no less! — not to mention how quickly and suddenly you decided to up and go on vacation, was the reason it was necessary to disappoint the citizens and businesses of this fair city because — oh, how shall I put this, I don't want to sound rude! — because the bride was _already_ expecting?"

The entire room seemed to go dead with shock for a moment, not because it might be possible, but because the woman would dare to say it so baldly. In that moment, Minion wanted to die for the mistake he'd made in letting Maybelle speak even as he had to exert every ounce of willpower to keep from using his new sidearm set for the first time on _destroy._ Roxanne's face drained of blood, appalled by the underhanded, slimy way in which Maybelle chose to exact revenge.

Oh, it wasn't much of a threat or even an insult by most contemporary standards. With all the myriad variations of families that abounded these days, a woman pregnant before the wedding was generally no big deal, save in some very religious or old-fashioned families and towns. Even among high society, the fact was usually just played down; it seldom resulted in the couple being ostracized, unless there was some powerful negative connection with the bride or groom that might somehow besmirch the family name and reputation.

Even with their detractors, this wasn't the case with this particular couple, not in Metro City nor even in most of the upper Midwest. But Roxanne's new position with the network was still in its infancy; she was still proving to them just how valuable and reliable and trustworthy an asset she could be to them on a national level. What was familiar and acceptable in the staff of a local station might not be so well received across the country, and the executives who ran and owned the network were certainly aware of this. The tale of a former damsel in distress who saved her former kidnapper from a self-destructive life of crime and helped him to become a true hero through the strength of love was classically appealing to virtually all demographics — but it was also a tale that could have a fragile future when it was so new. Eloping to be married in a quiet and romantic setting would charm many viewers — but if that story became tainted with the rumor of it being a matter of necessity, done purely to uphold their reputations and not actually for true love...

Maybelle had picked the vulnerable spot to strike very well indeed. If her suggestion turned out to be true, it would throw their credibility into question, both Roxanne's as a reliable national reporter and Megamind's as a genuine hero. As it was _not _true, it was nothing more than an attempt to humiliate and destroy Roxanne by creating doubt about her morals and ethics, and to undermine the reputation and trust that Megamind had been working so diligently to build with the people of Metro City in the more than two years since he'd abandoned his life of crime.

The hero himself flared an almost crimson shade of purple, driven by a lethal combination of momentary embarrassment and powerful anger. However, when he spoke, his voice was icy calm, though the words were clipped and direct. "No," he said bluntly. "Roxanne is not pregnant. Next question." He pointed to some random member of the press corps standing not far from the hateful woman, making it clear that this was the final word on that subject.

Maybelle, however, was not about to be silenced. She surged forward, shoving both Gabrielle and the poor man who had been about to speak aside. "So, do you expect us to take _your_ word for it, when the entire affair was conducted like some sort of top secret government cover-up? You're nothing but a criminal playing at being a protector of the people! Protector, indeed! For all we know, she _was _expecting, and this sudden long vacation in some backwater town was intended to cover up the process of ending it! Why should we believe a word you say?"

The implication that they'd gone out of town so that she could get an abortion and recover without anyone in the city knowing about it made Roxanne rebound from her shock in an instant. The color rushed back into her face in flaming red glory, and she was about to launch into a full-scale counterattack — looking very much as if she was about to leap across the room and land on the bitch with all claws bared to show her what she thought of the woman's tawdry suggestions — when Megamind touched her arm in a firm but gentle way that warned her to hold her peace. She did when she saw him fix Maybelle with a look that might very well have put Roxanne in fear for her life, back during the days when he'd been earnestly playing the villain.

He spoke with remarkable calm and smoothness, unruffled, unoffended — and very, _very_ dangerous. "Whether or not people believe me, that I've given up my formerly felonious ways and have in no way done as you suggest is not within my control — or yours. But I _do_ suggest that you accept my answer to your first question as fact, Mrs. Duke. I know that you can't possibly be privy to the medical proof of Roxanne's condition, of course, but the purpose of this press conference is to separate fact from fiction, and so I've given you a direct, honest answer. She is not pregnant. She never _has _been pregnant. By me or anyone else. End of story. But if you prefer to spread rumors that are outright lies..."

A small, wintry, deadly smile curved his lips, but did not touch his eyes; they instead burned with an intense, lethal green fire. "As a member of the press, I'm sure you understand the problems that can occur when one releases information before it's been adequately researched and verified. Mistakes can happen, people can be hurt — lives can be destroyed." He said the last phrase with slow and subtle emphasis that caused Maybelle to flinch in spite of herself. "I can't believe that as an old friend of Roxanne's own mother, you would want to see that happen or _cause _it to happen, any more than you would want to embarrass yourself when these accusations are utterly disproved. Do you?"

There were times, Roxanne thought, when people easily remembered that Megamind had once been a public nuisance and an often ludicrous failure as a criminal, but completely forgot how terribly hard and rough merely living in a prison could be. They complained of his villainous past and laughed at his history of extravagant displays of technical genius that somehow always ended in defeat, and never truly understood that he could be an extremely dangerous, very deadly opponent when he chose to be. Now that he was a hero, people did see more of his physical capabilities as a street fighter from time to time, yet too many still felt that his wits were limited to his inventions and the games of cat and mouse banter he liked to play during battles. He seldom used those wits to verbally disarm or dissect the other offensive people he came up against, but when those occasions came, he never failed to rise to them.

Now, Roxanne heard in his words and his tone of voice precisely what he meant, and what only they and Maybelle would fully understand: that if she dared to slander and endanger Roxanne's reputation and her career by spreading lies that she was carrying his child and thus had rushed into a sham marriage only to save face with the network brass, or that she had had an abortion for the same purpose, he would very happily tell the assembled news and gossip media of Metro City exactly what he had learned from Kathleen Ritchi a short time ago, and would produce all the concrete evidence anyone wished to back it up. _Right now._ Not only would it end Maybelle's career as the city's foremost voice of high society, it would ruin the lives of all of her co-conspirators and would quite possibly take down all their husbands as well. He had no intention of pulling any punches, and he had a video recording on his person to back him up.

If Maybelle wanted to play the game of digging dirt with him, Megamind was fine with it. Between being in prison and escaping from it, he'd learned more ways of dealing with dirt of both physical and metaphorical kinds than Marble's puny brain had ever imagined possible. He generally considered such fighting petty and beneath him; there were many better uses for his magnificent brain than dueling gossip, but since she had chosen the weapon, he would not refuse to use it.

He held the woman's eye now much as he had done with Kathleen earlier that afternoon. With the greater distance between them, Maybelle might have held out longer, but for the many other eyes — and cameras — she could sense focused on her, waiting for her response and an opportunity to pounce. And there were at least a score of people in this room who would gladly use any excuse to rip her to shreds, in revenge for put downs and criticisms and social blackmail she herself had wielded over the years to establish and maintain her position and power within the city's social and media hierarchy. She knew just how much she was genuinely guilty, and just how many people would rush to stand in line to take her down.

Like Kathleen, she looked away first, well aware of the ammunition Megamind had, loaded and ready to use should she attempt any further denigration of Roxanne. "No," she said, her clench-toothed smile not an apology, but a death rictus. "I don't. If you're certain."

"We are," Roxanne replied firmly, her fury back under control, especially now that Maybelle was effectively leashed and muzzled. For a moment, she considered pressing for an apology, but decided to be the bigger person. "I'm sorry if you feel slighted and insulted because we decided to share our happy news with all of Metro City rather than give it as an exclusive to KMCP and the social register, but we decided this was the best way to handle it for all concerned."

She then turned to the reporter that Maybelle had so rudely shoved aside, smiling pleasantly. "I believe Mykaal wanted you to speak next."

The youngish fellow managed to pull himself back together quite admirably. "I'm Arthur Kinsale of WXPQ's weekly Focus on the Family show. I wanted to congratulate you on your wedding, both of you, and while I hadn't considered the issues of genetic compatibility, I did wonder if you have plans to raise a family in the future."

The couple exchanged a briefly infinite glance; their agreement was noticeable only to them. Megamind inclined his head, indicating that Roxanne should speak for them. "At the present time, no. Both Mykaal and I are very career oriented; in our own ways, we were married to the work we love long before we fell in love with each other. We both feel that we still have a great deal to contribute to the world by continuing and growing in our chosen fields. Neither of us dislike children — with the exception of bullies! — but we simply don't believe it would be wise for us to have our own. Children should come before the needs of their parents' jobs, and not to be actively endangered by them, as ours inevitably would. It wouldn't be right, or fair to them. Things might change someday, but for now, this seems the most responsible path for us to take."

Megamind nodded his approval of her explanation. "Besides, it's very recently come to my attention that if I really want to help other children avoid suffering in the ways I did as a child, there are ways I could positively affect the lives of _many_ children, not just one or two. I think I'd like to look into those possibilities, when I can... if Roxanne doesn't mind?"

Though she hadn't yet heard the thoughts he'd had that morning about such things as teaching and mentoring, it both surprised and touched her to hear him say this, he who so often could be uncomfortable around larger groups of children because it brought back the pain of his own disastrous childhood. Just for him to say that he _wanted_ to help more than just one or two children avoid similar pain spoke of another level of inner healing he had achieved.

The proud look followed by the brief but loving kiss she gave him said it all, and his startled and flushed reaction drew chuckles from the crowd. "No, I guess she doesn't mind," he answered his own question when she withdrew, chuckling to see his abashed smile.

The next question was from Ethan Maddox, the top reporter at KMCP's biggest local rival, WKLM. Strangely, Roxanne had no feelings of dread when she gave him the nod, knowing Maddox to be a true professional, even if she'd butted heads with him from time to time in pursuit of exclusives and breaking news. Even Megamind had no issues of defensiveness or jealousy toward the man, recognizing him as a professional rival worthy of Roxanne, much more so than many of the cretins she'd actually worked with. Not that he would hesitate to get in the man's face if so prompted; he simply hadn't needed to because Maddox had thus far demonstrated a clear understanding of how their journalistic version of the Game was to be played.

After properly identifying himself for the sake of protocol, he got right down to business. "My question is for Megamind," he said in a well-trained baritone. "My sources in Washington and inside the White House inform me that a full Presidential pardon for you may be in the offing soon, possibly before the end of the summer. Do you have any feelings or comments to offer on the subject?"

The question was so utterly unexpected, the ex-villain's initial response was to simply stare at the man, eyes wide, mouth slacked open with shock. Minion and Roxanne were better able to react, his wife's an excited squeeze of his arm and a brilliant smile, his partner's an almost whispered but ecstatic, "Oh, sir...!"

Megamind managed to close his mouth reasonably quickly, but he spent a few seconds more swallowing to kick-start his voice. "I... would be incredibly grateful, if it's true," he finally was able to half-stammer, in an unusually meek voice. "The President and I did discuss the possibility almost two years ago, but he warned me that it might be a long time in coming, if it ever did. There was a lot of opposition to the idea, especially from law enforcement and military and security sectors. Being a former terrorist and felon all that."

He tried his best not to squirm like a child confessing his misdeeds before the principal, and didn't quite succeed; his contrition could not be denied. "The past I'm not very proud of anymore is difficult for them to forget, much less forgive. I _want_ to be fully pardoned, of course, very much, but I'm reluctant to get my hopes up too soon. I've been disappointed by rumors about it before."

"Then go ahead and get your hopes up, little buddy," a familiar voice boomed from the back of the hall. Everyone's attention abruptly shifted to the tall and cheerful figure of Wayne Scott, dressed for business in a cream-and-navy suit, grinning and waving to all and sundry as he came striding down the center aisle to the front of the auditorium, brandishing a thick envelope in one hand. When he reached the stage, greeting Bernard in passing with a clap to the shoulder that nearly flattened the slim curator, he went straight to the podium.

"I was hoping to have this before tonight's newscasts," he explained as he joined his friends, yet speaking for all to hear. "If I'd known you two were going to call a press conference this afternoon, I would've tried to get here even sooner, but, well, better a little late than never. I have a lot of the same friends in Washington as Maddox, there—" He gave that reporter a broad wink and a grin. "—but mine owe me a few bigger favors, and are a little closer to the Man himself. This came in by special courier just a few minutes ago, and when this shindig is over, there's a phone call that'll be waiting for you in the Museum's office."

The four of them knew exactly which "special courier" had brought the envelope, since there were certain people at the very highest level of government who were aware of the top-secret truth about Metro Man and the "loss" of his powers. When Wayne handed the large white envelope to Megamind and the blue genius saw the imprinted seal, the smaller alien knew what was probably inside. For the better part of a minute, all he could do was hold the envelope and stare at it. Then the green eyes turned up to Wayne, puzzled.

"Why you?" he asked very softly, too softly for the microphones to pick up.

Wayne knew what he really meant: why had he taken the risk of flying in broad daylight to Washington to get this, and why had he arranged to be the courier in the first place.

The retired hero's dazzling stage smile softened to something more sincere. "Because I still owe you, Megs," he said, also very quietly. "If I hadn't started things between us on the wrong foot all those years ago, this wouldn't have been necessary. I wanted to do this much for you, to make things right."

Megamind studied his erstwhile enemy's face for another moment, measuring the truth in it; convinced that this was no trick or lie, he dropped his eyes back to the envelope, now suddenly nervous.

"Well?" Roxanne nudged him, her voice quite audible to the microphones. Minion stood right behind her, offering his own beaming encouragement. "Don't forget, we have the city's entire press corps here waiting, and most of them have deadlines coming soon — not to mention your meeting with the City Council at three."

"Oh, hang the Council," the blue hero muttered, loud enough for the microphones to catch. An amused mumble rippled through the crowd of watching reporters, most of whom were sympathetic to what this moment might mean to him. He bit his lower lip, nibbled it for a second or two with the very tip of his tongue sticking out the other side; then he finally opened the envelope. He did so decisively, though the shaking of his hands betrayed his less than steady nerves.

There were a number of sheets of paper inside, some the thick, embossed vellum used only for the most important of legal documents. The topmost was an ordinary sheet of stationery, but it caught Megamind's eye first, as was clearly intended. The seal and imprint across the top declared it to be _From the Office of the President. _Setting the heavier papers atop the podium, he took the letter in both hands and read it quickly in one swift scan. The green eyes flicked back to the top when he was done and read it again to let the words sink in. By then, more than just his hands were trembling.

"What does it say?" Roxanne asked, speaking for almost the entire room. That he was shaking and had said nothing worried her. What if it wasn't what they were expecting? Surely Wayne wouldn't have been so cruel... if he'd _known..._

"Should I read it for them?" the tall musician asked his old adversary, understanding how this might have truly rendered the usually vocal Megamind speechless. When the blue hero nodded and handed him the paper, Wayne stepped right up to the microphone, comfortable with such speechifying.

"Oh, don't worry, it's good news," he prefaced, seeing some of the gathered media folks picking up on Roxanne's concern. "It reads like this:

_"To Mykaal Thejhan, also known as Megamind, from the Office of the President._

_"Dear Mykaal,_

_"It is one of the great privileges of our nation's Chief Executive to be able to correct certain wrongs and inequities when adequate evidence is shown that amnesty has been earned, and is deserved. The mistakes of the past can only be corrected when the proof of both actions and the approval of others in the community make clear that remorse is sincere, that extenuating circumstances were involved, and that an effort to make amends has been honestly and diligently made._

_"For more than two years, you, Mykaal, have demonstrated the most sincere effort possible to not only provide restitution for the acts of your misguided and mistreated past wherever possible, but also to make great positive changes in yourself and the direction of your life. _

_"The proof of this can been seen in the work you have taken upon yourself, the dangers you now willingly face to protect and defend and serve the people, not only of your home community but of your entire state and beyond. If it is true that one can show no greater love than to offer one's life for another, then you have provided affirmation of your change of heart each time you have placed your own life at risk to save another's. This has occurred so frequently during the past two years, I believe it would not be overstating the truth to say that you have come to embrace the human race as your own people, more so than many who were born on this planet._

_"Being a part of a community can be demonstrated in many ways, and perhaps one of the happiest ways is in making a lifelong commitment to another in the partnership of marriage. The legal definition of it is not as important as the bond itself, of two hearts and two minds and two souls accepting and embracing one another to face what life has to offer, together. That you and Ms Ritchi did so despite the tremendous opposition of narrow and petty minds is a testament to your mutual strength and courage, and to your personal devotion to make a better life for more than yourself alone._

_"Taking into account all of these things, I now firmly believe that your change is not temporary, and that with the help and support of your new wife and your growing community of friends, you will remain on the positive course you have chosen to be your future. To help support and ensure this, I now give my approval to a full pardon of all federal crimes you may have committed, so that together with those pardons you have already received from the governor of your state, you will finally be able to enjoy the full freedoms of any citizen of our great nation, to move forward in life released from the burdens and shackles of a troubled past._

_"My most heartfelt congratulations on your marriage. I wish you and Roxanne great happiness, and I offer my hopes that together, you may achieve both joy and success beyond anything you have dreamed._

"And it's signed by the President," Wayne added when he'd finished reading the body of the letter.

Amid a flurry of applause, dozens of hands shot up, along with clamorous cries to be recognized. Roxanne had been reading the letter from the side as Wayne read it aloud; when he was finished, she took it to have a closer look at the signature before passing it to Minion for his perusal. Even Bernard had stepped up to the ichthyoid to have his own gawk at the letter. Megamind was still in something of a daze and Wayne had never really learned all the protocol of press conferences (he'd relied on convenient sound bites, dazzling smiles, and the help of knowledgeable people like Roxanne to get through them), so she permitted the follow-up question to come from Ethan Maddox, who had brought up the subject.

"Mr. Scott, are you sure this document is authentic?" he asked, voicing what from others might have been an accusation of falsification as a completely neutral request for simple information.

Wayne grinned broadly. "Oh, yes, very sure. Because my family has connections with some of the lawyers involved in it, I had a chance to discuss the finalization of the full pardon in a video conference call with the President, and saw him sign the papers before they were picked up by the courier." That he'd had that video conference before flying to Washington to witness the signing in person before acting as the courier was more information than the press could know, for the time being. The answer was a bit evasive, but not at all a lie. "I was happy to bring it here today, since I do want to help Megs — sorry, Mykaal," he sheepishly corrected himself, managing to pronounce the name properly. "I want to help him find and enjoy some kind of normal life. I know, I know, we fought like a couple of dogs for twenty years, but I also know he's doing his best now to fill the shoes I left behind. I kinda made being a hero look like a walk in the park, but the fact is, it isn't easy, even when you have superpowers and _don't_ have a long, bad history behind you making it more difficult. He's been working hard, harder than a lot of people know, and I honestly believe he deserves this."

The mumbles and mutters from the crowd sounded somewhat divided on the issue, but there were no overt noises of protest. That surprised Roxanne, until she noticed that ever since Wayne had appeared, Maybelle had disappeared, and the two protestors had moved to the back of the room, as far away from the center of attention as possible without completely leaving. She shot a questioning look to Gabrielle and Marty.

The young reporter returned a very satisfied look of triumph and a thumbs-up, while Marty pantomimed the socialite slinking out like a dog with its tail between its legs. She may have left to try to regroup or do some kind of damage control, but it was enough for Roxanne to know that Maybelle was gone. Content, she glanced at the clock to see how much time was left before the meeting at three. Fifteen minutes. Enough to allow at least a few more questions, now that the worst troublemakers were either out of the room or subdued.

She recognized Sarah Norquist, an elderly woman from one of the city's weekly local interest magazines, a sweet lady who could be everybody's grandmother at the same time she wrote hard-hitting columns on issues like the difficulties plaguing youths from troubled neighborhoods and the impact of poorly regulated shipping practices on the ecosystem of their Great Lake.

"Mr. Megamind," she said with a polite smile that was genuinely kind, "you seem unusually quiet about this! Is there some aspect of this pardon that you find troubling?" She appeared genuinely confused by his reaction.

Drawn back into the moment, Megamind returned to the microphone, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out at first was, "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." Then, the sound became a laugh. "Um, no, no, it doesn't bother me!" he insisted in much more of his typical exuberant manner. "I simply had no idea this was coming, not today! It's — a lot to take in, let me tell you! I really did want a chance to start over, to clean up my life and make amends for all the havoc and mayhem and property damage I caused, and I honestly was trying as hard as I could, but, well, it just wasn't easy and for a while it didn't seem like I'd have a better track record when it came to not failing, which made me sure that if it didn't _get_ better, there was no way I would _ever_ get a full pardon, and to tell the truth, I was _very _reluctant to ask Roxanne to marry me until I did get it, but I do love her so much and the place we went on vacation was so beautiful that I guess I just couldn't help myself, and now, here's the President telling me that part of the reason he decided it was a good time to pardon me was _because _we'd gotten married, so when I consider that and the fact that maybe if I _hadn't _he _wouldn't _have given it to me, it's just so totally mind-blowing that I feel like my head might explode if—_mrph!"_

The overwhelmed and excited hero had gone into full mindless babble mode, to which his sympathetic wife put on the brakes by giving him a good, sound, loving kiss. Some younger members of the crowd hooted with delight, some older members smiled knowingly, some were indifferent, only a few frowned or showed some kind of displeasure. When she broke the kiss, Roxanne smiled and patted her happily sappy husband's blue cheek. "Chill, sweetie," she suggested, chuckling softly. "You passed monologuing into total babbling about a minute back."

Megamind flushed a charming shade of purple. "Did I make too big a fool of myself?" he wondered in a poorly whispered aside.

She shook her head and laughed; Minion laid one metal hand on his ward's shoulder. "It's okay, sir, I think everyone understands that you've got a good reason to be excited. It's official now!" he declared proudly. "You're free, sir!"

"Free," the pardoned ex-felon echoed, amazed, then suddenly exultant. "Free!" he shouted, ecstatic. "Minion! Roxanne! Do you _know_ what this means? It—"

Roxanne pressed one fingertip to his lips. "I think maybe this means the press conference is over," she forestalled before he launched into another major babble fit. "Wayne, thank you for delivering this," she said with a gracious nod to the retired superhero. "And ladies and gentlemen of the press and other guests, thank you for coming. Mr. Jennings will see to it that you all receive press kits before you leave." Her glance at the sandy-haired curator was answered with a curt nod; Bernard had been counting the minutes until the conference was over and he could get these potential damage-causers out of his museum. "So you'll excuse us for cutting this a bit short, but I believe my husband has an important phone call to make."

And with that, she took one of Megamind's gloved hands, pausing only long enough to let him grab the oh-so-precious papers of his most significant official pardon and clutch them protectively to his chest. They then left the stage to see to making that phone call to Washington, Minion and Wayne trading high-fives of victory as they followed the newlyweds out.

* * *

><p><em>To be concluded...<em>


	11. Epilogue

_Author's Note: And now we come to the end of the tale — and the beginning of the next. I've said from the start that the biggest purpose of this story is setting up what will come after, and believe me, what will come after has grown into something much more complex than I'd ever thought it would be. So worry not, gentle readers, this isn't the end, far from it. As I see things now, there will be at least two full novels to come after this, as well as several other short stories. (Still gotta tell the tale of Wayne's interview, which deserves space all of its own, and the story of what the heck Typhoon Cheese really is — after all, I'm from Wisconsin! And I'm sure there are other little bits and pieces outside the main story arc to be told as well.) Thank you very much to all of you for your patience, your support, and your feedback. Even though I don't often respond directly to reviews (if I did, I would spend all my time in email conversations rather than writing, and I think I know which most people would prefer me to do!), I assure you, each word is read and treasured. Bless you all for coming along for the ride._

_And now, the final, long, long chapter. Small warning to those who may take offense: these folks are now a married couple, and they do occasionally talk about their love life. But not in detail. I'm not a writer of smut, just an occasional moment of mild steam, in what is hopefully a tasteful manner, as between two loving and committed adults._

* * *

><p>Epilogue<p>

Two months later, on a dark and damp November evening, Roxanne came home from an exhausting day at work, wondering for the umpteenth time how she could spend most of a day sitting at her desk, doing nothing but research, and still feel more exhausted than she had a few years back, literally chasing after the news on the city's streets. She tended to underestimate the stress of dealing with a lot of strong personalities in pursuit of information, or how tiring it could be to find ways of bringing sensitive topics to light without obscuring the truth or watering it down. This last week had been particularly bad, as she and Wayne had been working out the final details of the interview that would be his confession to the city of how he had tricked them, first into believing that he had been killed, and then into believing that he had lost his powers so that people would stop asking him for help. Coming up with an approach that would tell the whole truth and not turn everyone against him had been very, very difficult.

By comparison, dealing with the repercussions of Maybelle's attempted treachery in September had been a piece of cake, largely because it had been virtually effortless. When Roxanne returned to the station after the press conference and the meeting with the City Council that day, she'd discovered that Maybelle had already been given her walking papers. It turned out that most local stations — KMCP included — had broadcast the press conference live as breaking news, and thus there had been no editing of what Maybelle had done or said.

Jack Kincaid had been watching, and he'd found the woman's plainly bigoted behavior and her outright lies so abominable, he fired her even before she returned to the Metro Media building to attempt damage control. When Maybelle attempted to call Lena Albright to get her support to save her job, she got Sam Albright instead. The station owner had been on an extension during the conference call between his wife, Maybelle, and Kathleen earlier in the day, after the nurse had called them to warn her cronies about Megamind's visit to Grand Rapids, what he now knew about their conspiracy, and what he had recorded. And then, not even ten minutes after Maybelle had attempted her slander, when Wayne Scott had come marching in with a full Presidential pardon...! It made the woman look so bad, both Kincaid and Albright couldn't get rid of her fast enough.

Albright backed up Jack's decision to fire her, considering Maybelle to now be a liability to the station. To put an end to the ongoing melodrama, he'd convinced Kincaid to come clean with his wife about his first son, as he intended to come clean to the authorities about his own involvement in covering up the details of the accident in which Stewart Mitchell's parents had died.

In the end, Kincaid's wife had been understanding, and though the revelation of Abright's involvement in cover-up fifteen years ago was something of a scandal for himself and George Duke, it wasn't as bad for the two men as it might've been. When they came clean on their own, Megamind actually asked the judge who reopened the case to show them leniency, partly because they'd finally done the right thing, and partly because as a former inmate, he knew that putting them in prison for such relatively minor crimes would penalize society by forcing taxpayers to cover the costs of their upkeep. Instead, he recommended stiff fines and a lot of community service, the former of which would hit them where it hurt the most, and the latter of which would do more good for the society to whom they owed the debt.

Any debt owed to the Mitchells' surviving son had already been paid in full by Lena Albright — who, on the other hand, was now facing serious charges of fraud, embezzlement, and a host of other charges associated with her perceived need to pay off her nephew, who in turn had used the money to fund an operation that trafficked in human lives. Maybelle did indeed get smacked with charges of being an accessory, since she had used her position at KMCP to blackmail people in order to cover Lena's wrongdoings. Lena was roundly condemned for using her granddaughter's disappearance as an excuse to embezzle money to pay her nephew's extortion, especially when it came to light that she'd known Amelia was alive and well and hadn't even told the young woman's parents. The two women stayed out of prison again only because of Megamind's intervention on their behalf, but their reputations and standings in high society were destroyed for good.

Which to the ex-villain's mind served up a very cold dish of revenge to those who deserved it the most. Behind bars, they would become objects of pity to at least some people, believing them to be older women who had been too harshly sentenced. Allowed to serve their time as their husbands did, through heavy fines and extensive community service, they then became beholden to the alien they hated who had intervened on their behalf. This again saved the taxpayers the money that would've been spent on their incarceration and humiliated them so thoroughly, they would never wield such power over others again.

Kathleen actually managed to come through the whole thing relatively unscathed, since her dealings with the two real culprits had been minimal, and her own worst actions little more than simply keeping her mouth shut. In speaking with the lawyers involved in the prosecution, Megamind had suggested she be left out of the charges but called as a witness against her own cronies. If she fought against testifying, it would indicate that perhaps she should be included as an accomplice; if she didn't, she would ultimately punish herself by abandoning her friends. She chose the latter to save her own hide. Roxanne hadn't been at all surprised, since she herself had been thrown under the bus by her mother for the sake of her career, many times.

So, between the court intrigues, ordinary work, preparing for Wayne's big reveal to the city, the coming anniversary event at the Museum, and the usual ramping up of stress as the holidays approached, it had been a very busy two months, made easier only by the honeymoon trip they'd taken in early October. That lovely week back at the quiet lake house now seemed like it had been months ago, and as she returned home that night, Roxanne was hoping she wouldn't find her husband hip deep in some important project or out on an emergency that only he could resolve. Wayne had been helping him learn to recognize when he should say no to calls for help, and he had taken the lessons to heart. As a result, while the brainbots were kept busy, he and Minion were freer to live their own lives between the calls in which they were genuinely needed. The police and other servants of the people were finally given a chance to learn and do their jobs properly, and shine as they should, so it was turning out to be a win-win situation for all involved.

After parking her car in its customary spot in the Lair's garage area, Roxanne gave tired greetings to the brainbots who came to do their jobs in keeping it clean and serviced. The scents of oils and gasoline and rubber that were typical of any garage were overlaid with much more appealing aromas that were wafting down from the kitchen in the living quarters above, a sure sign that supper would soon be on the table. She could just barely hear Minion singing along with something playing on the radio while he worked; the music coming from Megamind's thinking area was much louder — though not as ear-splittingly loud as it could get when he was upset. No, this was just his normal "I'm trying to work something out in my head" volume, yet it sounded... weird. Roxanne recognized the song as "Back in Black"; though his encounters with the parts of culture and arts that he'd never been properly exposed to during his villainous years was considerably broadening the blue hero's musical tastes, he would never lose his fondness for the classic rock that was his first love.

But it didn't sound quite right. The pronounced beat and guitar riffs were all there, but a counterpoint had been added, trading riffs back and forth with the guitar, sometimes weaving its own sound along with the familiar. Roxanne stood there listening for a full minute before she realized the other sound was a violin. What she was hearing sounded like a strange jam session between Jascha Heifetz and AC/DC, with the violinist deftly improvising around the classic rock song.

She couldn't have kept herself from smiling if she'd tried. She'd always believed that Megamind could do anything he wished, if he just put his considerable mind to it, and when he'd taken up the violin as a lark, then got good at it to play for her in public at the celebrity charity competition last March, she hadn't really expected him to stick with it. But during the difficult months in which he'd been fighting a very troublesome trio of supervillains and she'd been fighting with her new and demanding position at work, not to mention her sleazy producer, he'd gone back to it as a means of calming himself when life became almost unbearably difficult, to restore his balance so that he could think clearly again — just like Sherlock Holmes. And the more he'd stayed with it, the better he'd gotten.

The sound of it was peculiar now because it had been so unexpected, but the longer she listened, the more Roxanne thought it was very clever, and actually a pretty good improvisational sound. If the current AC/DC band ever decided to do a concert in Metro City, they should try this kind of jamming with their number one fan. It could be an interesting new direction for them to try, just for the novelty alone.

Roxanne walked toward the curtained-off area that was Megamind's favorite thinking place, moving slowly and quietly as she listened to the song. She reached the edge of the curtain just as it was ending, and waited until it was done before stepping around the edge of the red fabric, applauding.

"That was very... unusual," she critiqued, adding when he nearly jumped out of his blue skin in surprise, eyes wide but mouth half-frowning, "and also _very _good! I had a feeling that someday, you'd figure out a way to put your favorite music and _that _together." She pointed to the black solid-bodied electronic violin he'd almost dropped. "Have you done this before, or is this the first time?"

"Second time," Megamind replied, relaxing from surprise as he reached out with the bow and tapped a control on the console he was standing beside, turning down the volume of the music playing on the sound system. He was wearing his working jumpsuit, but had removed the cape and collar and gloves, which were draped on his tall-backed executive chair. Until Roxanne had made her presence known and he'd jumped with surprise, he had been half-sitting on the edge of the console while he played, lost in the throes of both musical improvisation and deep thought. "I don't know where the idea came from, it just popped into my head the last time I was up in the music room. How was your day?"

She sighed as she came over and snuggled up against him, feeling a need for closeness. "Exhausting. I'm glad today is Friday and we aren't taping the interview with Wayne until Sunday morning. Keeping the wrong people from finding out what it's really going to be about has been more stressful than working with Stewart Mitchell for three months."

Her husband set the violin on the console so he could wrap his arms around her and offer comfort. "That bad, huh? Aren't they buying the red herring about it being a retrospective thing to help promote the Museum's anniversary on Monday?"

"Most people are," she confirmed, settling her head on his shoulder. "But there are always the nosy ones who think they're clever and want to try to get you to spill the beans too soon, or the ones who suddenly consider themselves your best friend and are sure they can get juicy details from you if they pretend long enough."

Megamind frowned. "None of them are men with names that even vaguely resemble 'Stewart,' are they?"

He was at least partially serious, and it made Roxanne smile. It was nice to know that two months or so of married life hadn't changed him one bit, that way. "No, sweetie," she said, turning her head to press a kiss to his slender neck. "Closest thing is Manny Staziewski, and you know him, he's one of your fanboys. He wouldn't dream of getting you mad at him just because he's dying to know why we've been giving Sunday's interview such a big build-up. I think he's really more concerned that the late afternoon football game might run long and Mr. Kincaid'll cut it short just to make sure the special starts on time. It's the Metro Knights against the Packers, you know."

The green eyes rolled most eloquently. "I will _never _understand this obsession people have with this game! Nothing but a bunch of overgrown, hairy, Cro-Magnon brutes mangling each other to try to get a lopsided excuse for a ball — a rather _obskeen _excuse for a ball at that! — across a line painted on a field that usually isn't even real grass! And have you _ever _been inside that domed monstrosity they call a stadium? The noise is absolutely _terrible!"_

Roxanne sniffed, still smiling. "Yeah, I've been in it. Kidnapping 261, remember? But you're right, the noise _was _terrible!"

Now, he pouted. "It was _supposed _to be terrible! That's why it the entire plan was called Knight Terrors!"

Now, his wife couldn't help but laugh. "You know, that's still a _really _bad pun — especially since as 'knights,' the brainbots in what looked like tinfoil armor and spikes weren't very terrifying!"

Megamind lifted his chin in exaggerated haughty disdain. "It wasn't tinfoil, it was — oh, never mind," he said, abruptly deflating. "You're right, it was a lame attempt at villainy. But you have to admit, at least the laser light show that went with it was impressive!"

"That it was," she allowed, eyes sparkling brightly as she lifted her head to kiss him. He accepted it, both as the slight apology and the much stronger expression of affection that were intended. When they finally came up for air, Roxanne looked into her husband's eyes and saw that he was just as tired as herself. "So I take it the day wasn't all fun and games for you, either," she sighed. "I heard that last month's heist from the city's municipal salt storage turned up with some idiot trying to dump it all into the bay to pollute the city's water supply."

Megamind grimaced. "Oh, yes, it was our old friend Seymour Ratzenberg, out on bail and trying to make a name for himself again. Really, if he wants to be a total nuisance by finding new ways to pollute and litter and just plain turn the city into a garbage dump, he should at least come up with a better villainous name than Sewer Rat! _And _he should find a more subtle way of setting up his attacks — driving an open dump truck full of road salt right down the lakefront expressway is _not _going to be missed! The patrol bots have had instructions to keep an eye out for any private stockpiles or large movements of salt since the theft. They spotted him and reported in. I'll give Seymour one thing, he _has_ been working on his nuisance factor. When the bots tried to nab him when he stopped on the bay, he released a huge swarm of flies that plastered themselves to the bots. They still managed to grab him, but not until he'd dumped the salt near one of the pipes where the city pumps cleaned sewage water back into the lake. The city sent a hazmat team to try to contain it before too much of the salt dissolved and did serious damage to the bay's ecosystem, but they aren't really equipped for desalinization."

"But you are," Roxanne smirked, already aware of the answer.

He preened. "Of course! Really, I'm sure that the people who do it for a fee make it seem _so _difficult only to squeeze money out of people who need fresh water and have depleted sources. It was one of the first things I came up with to help Minion's friends who want to protect the Great Lakes. A cheap, simple, fast process can provide ample supplies of fresh water for people in other parts of the country who've overtaxed their water tables and make them stop looking to take away _our _biggest natural resource. It took about fifteen minutes to whip up enough in the lab to desalinize the entire bay, and only another five minutes to fly over, drop it in, and let it do its work. It's really quite effective; the entire bay was clean again inside of ten minutes. Cleaning the flies off the brainbots was _much _more annoying and time consuming." His grimace eloquently communicated just how distasteful and grungy that job had been.

His wife chuckled. "Totally beneath the dignity of someone with your lofty intelligence, huh?"

"Totally," was his emphatic agreement. "But most of the other brainbots don't have the proper dexterity for cleaning in small crevices — something I intend to correct as soon as possible, let me tell you! — and I couldn't leave the entire job to Minion and the Brain and the other housekeeping bots that could manage it. Not after making him my partner."

Now, Roxanne stood straight again, though she didn't attempt to back out of the loose embrace of his arms still around her waist. "That would be mean, letting him do all the drudge work."

"It would. Besides, it gave me an excuse to put off talking with Bernard again."

The blue eyes widened. "Again? What's he bugging you about this time? Didn't everything for the Museum's anniversary get settled on two days ago?"

Megamind's mouth pulled to one side in a rather sour look. "_I _settled on it," he confirmed. "And I thought everyone else had, too. But apparently Bernard got wind of what your interview with Wayne on Sunday is going to be about..."

This time, she did step back. "He did? From who? We've been trying so hard to keep it under wraps, and some of those guys at the Museum are as bad about spreading gossip as Maybelle..."

The ex-villain smiled and lifted his hands from her waist to squeeze her shoulders while he leaned forward to place a soft kiss on her nose. "No, not from them. It was an accident. Minion thought we were alone in the museum director's office, he asked me if I thought Wayne's confessions in the interview would cause problems with the anniversary celebration, and Bernard walked in and overheard. It _was _his office, after all."

The slip was innocent enough, though a small part of Roxanne wondered if the snarky curator might've been eavesdropping, as she'd caught some people at the station doing in their attempts to find out details. "So he thinks having Wayne do his confession the day before the gala would be a problem?"

Megamind waggled one hand. "If he does, it's because he thinks it'll increase the Museum's traffic on Monday and overload the staff and facilities. He's annoying _me_ because he wants to know if I'll have some big surprise reveal for the Museum, too. Everything that came out the day after Labor Day did a lot for their business — and revenue — so with the Thanksgiving holiday coming, he was hoping to get something from me to entice people away from the malls and into the Museum."

Roxanne snorted softly as she reluctantly stepped back to shrug out of her coat, a necessary evil on these chilly, dark, damp November nights that started too soon and lasted too long. "You know Bernard, he'll never be satisfied until he knows everything about you and Minion and Wayne and where you came from — even if _you _never do."

Megamind sighed as he collected the violin and bow, flipping off the sound system as he did so. "I know, I know. I have a feeling he was disappointed when he didn't find out my real name before the rest of the world did, and he thinks we _do_ know Minion's real name and are just trying to keep it secret out of spite or something."

Her shrug was only half to get out of her coat. "Well, you've checked that recording gizmo your parents sent with you, and it doesn't look like there's anything about Minion on it. So why don't you and he sit down and come up with a name he likes? Or tell Bernard to knock it off if he wants to keep his job."

Her husband grumbled to himself for a moment as he tucked the violin and bow under one arm. "I couldn't do that to him, not after leaving him dehydrated in my unwashed laundry hamper for... too long. And just making up a name for Minion isn't fair to _him. _Oh, I know he wouldn't complain, and he'd be happy that I wanted to do it, but what I really _want _is to find the truth!"

Slinging her coat over one arm, Roxanne picked up her briefcase and purse with the same hand so that she could slip the other through the crook in his arm that was holding the violin, drawing him close. "I know, sweetie, but you've been looking for it for years. I know how important Minion is to you, but _you_ were the one who was most important to your parents. Maybe you can't find it in the records they made because they were so worried about taking care of getting things ready for you, they just forgot."

Megamind's sigh was even heavier, though he gladly leaned into her touch as they headed for the elevator to the living quarters at a sedate pace. Behind them, a pair of brainbots collected Daddy's discarded cape and collar and gloves, to be returned to their proper storage places. "I know. And it's possible that Minion's people didn't use names like we do, or that it's something only a fish underwater could say or hear. We've talked about it, and he thinks either notion is possible. We know that the neural implant he was given before we were put in the escape pod is to facilitate communication between him and me, or people like us, air breathers. But..."

Roxanne understood the disappointment she could hear in his voice. "But you want more for him. He does deserve it, but I can't think of what else you could do if the information you want just isn't there."

"I know that, too," Megamind admitted. "I just can't believe that my parents would have sent him with me to be my protector, to take care of me, and not include _anything _about him in their messages! It doesn't make sense! I keep thinking that there's something I'm not taking into account when I try to access the recordings. That's what I was doing when you got home, trying some of the techniques that can help my brain sort out things on its own when I can't do so consciously."

"And did it help any?"

He snorted as they reached the elevator. "Not with any flash of insight or sudden inspiration, still the same nagging feeling that I'm missing something, or forgetting something."

His wife considered this while they boarded the lift. "Maybe that's what you're missing," she said after the doors had closed and the car made its way to the upper floor.

He frowned. "What, inspiration? I already know I'm missing _that_...!"

She shook her head. "No, _feeling._ You always said there was something about the sphere that recognized and responded to your emotional states. If every time you pick it up you're feeling about the same, you're going to get the same response from it, right? And maybe it just doesn't have any built-in response to the kind of frustration you've been feeling."

His frown deepened a bit as he considered that. "It certainly responded to frustration when I was young — although then, it was always frustration driven by some other underlying emotion. Anger, fear, hate, confusion, despair..."

He shook his head slightly to dispel the old but still unpleasant memories; his expression then cleared. "You might be right. It's fairly obvious that whoever made it or programmed it did so with primarily emotional triggers. Frustration is an emotional state usually linked to another; purely intellectual frustration may not be enough of a trigger." With his free hand, he rubbed the back of his long neck. "I wonder why they made it so dependent on emotions..."

Roxanne's chuckle was gentle. "Maybe because most of what they put in it were things meant for you to hear when you were a child, and children are more emotionally driven than intellectually motivated. And face it, hon, you may have the biggest, sharpest, smartest brain in the world, but you're also a bundle of walking raw emotions, a lot of the time. It might be that this is the way all your people were."

The big head now turned slightly to look at her, startled a bit by the suggestion he'd never really considered. "You think so?"

She shrugged. "Why not? I know the classic image of aliens here is that they're either walking blocks of logical ice like Mr. Spock, or they're aggressive warmongers and parasites out to conquer the universe. Those are all stories cooked up in the minds of people who probably have phobias about the kind of 'aliens' who come over the border from Mexico. Just because you're smart doesn't mean you don't have emotions, and just because you weren't born on Earth doesn't mean the emotions you have must be bad. Your people may have been exceptionally sensitive and valued emotions as more than just an inevitable part of life. Heck, they may have actually understood them better than we do — in fact, I'd be willing to bet they did. They knew how to make that data sphere keyed just to you, combined with triggers that could only be tripped when you were in certain emotional states."

They reached the upper floor before she finished theorizing; Megamind listened quietly while they stepped out into the large rec room that was the central part of the living quarters. Roxanne gave his arm a little squeeze before heading to the closet where coats and such were stored. "I suppose that's entirely possible," he said as Pinky came bowging into the room to greet them, happily taking Mommy's purse and briefcase to put them where they belonged. "But if that's the case, there may be no new recordings to be found. You aren't the only person who's said I don't overact and overreact as much as I used to."

She laughed as Pinky returned to relieve Daddy of his violin and return it to the music room. "You don't, but that means you're only about twice as emotional as the average Earth human instead of three or four times. You might be right about having seen all there is to see, but it could also be waiting for a trigger it hasn't picked up on, yet. Can you think of any emotional state of mind in which you _haven't _ever picked it up?"

Megamind considered the question as she finished hanging up her coat, enjoying the view of her backside while he pondered. A broad, salacious grin crossed his face. "Oh, yes, but I think I'd feel uncomfortable, having a device programmed to show me speaking images of my parents in the same room while we're making love!"

His wife blew him a raspberry as she closed the closet door and turned back to join him again. "That wasn't exactly what I meant! Although I suppose that may actually be one major emotional state in which you've never handled it."

"Definitely," he said without needing to think about it. "Even when I was a _rundy _teenager in the throes of pubescent urges, I never touched it then, never wanted it anywhere _near _me! It would be like having your parents standing there, watching you... well, you know." His cheeks and ears flushed a lovely bright fuchsia as he merely thought of doing that.

Roxanne was sympathetic. "Yeah, I know. Girls aren't immune to hormonal urges, after all. Maybe it would be enough to think about the emotional aspects of what you feel when we make love, not the physical part of it, and definitely not _while_ we're doing it! I know that some people believe that for men, love is mostly lust, but I know that's not true with you. For someone who believed he was destined to be a heartless villain, you're the most sincerely romantic person I've ever known — probably on the entire planet. That part is emotional, not physical."

He went quiet again for a bit, thinking, as they started ambling toward the master suite so they could both get out of their work clothes before dinner. Amid the clanks and clatters and rattles and hisses and other noises of someone busily at work cooking, Minion could be clearly heard singing along with the radio between snatches of talking with his new brainbot assistant, designed and trained specifically to help in the kitchen.

Madeleine — as the bot had been affectionately dubbed by Minion, after the French pastry — was only the second brainbot created as a female, the gender chosen because Roxanne felt Pinky could use the companionship of another female of her own kind, and because Minion had heard too many stories about conflicting personalities in the kitchen when either two men or two women had to share it. Madeleine had her share of territorial feelings when it came to other brainbots horning in on her turf, but after she'd learned that allowing other bots to serve the food and carry the dishes didn't mean they wanted to share her more specific culinary duties, she'd mellowed into an agreeable, chipper little helper, assisting Minion with cooking and prep and clean up, and even capable of whipping up simple meals when the ichthyoid was busy with other things.

"I'm glad Madeleine's working out so well," Roxanne commented as they moved down the corridor past the kitchen, headed for their private rooms. "What with being your partner now, Minion really needs someone else to take over a lot of the household chores he's been doing, and when it comes to the kitchen, you and I still need to take lessons."

Megamind agreed. He'd worked up to about a dozen reliably decent actual meals he could cook — which had Roxanne beat by nine — but he had less time on his hands than Minion, most days. "Maybe next time we go on vacation. Wayne said that friend of his who helped cater our wedding dinner offers lessons, if you make arrangements ahead of time. I just wish the laundry bots were picking up how to do their jobs as fast as Madeleine is."

That wish was so heartfelt, Roxanne knew exactly what he was thinking. The pair, which she had named, had made a few significant mistakes in the three weeks since they'd been activated. "I told you, it's okay, I was wanting an excuse to buy some new underwear, anyway. At least Fluff and Fold didn't get their little claws on everything I own and shrink it to death! And it was a good learning experience for them. Now they know that just because a piece of clothing is white, it doesn't necessarily go straight into hot water and bleach!"

The reformed villain chuckled throatily as he held open one of the double doors to the suite for his lady. "It wasn't a total loss, I suppose, since I _very _much enjoyed helping you pick out... suitable replacements. As she stepped past him, he waggled his expressive eyebrows most appreciatively.

Roxanne made a show of lifting her nose in the air and aiming a completely feigned swat in his direction. "Oh, yes, so much that I suspect you got their programming wrong on purpose!"

He returned with his best kicked puppy face. "I would never tell any of the bots to ruin anything of yours on purpose," he defended, not very strongly since he knew she was teasing. "No, no, it was an honest mistake on my part. I should've left that part of their parameters to Minion, since I've never done the laundry myself, not without botching it horribly. Why do you think we never got that strange musty smell out of the kidnapping bags? We had four of them, you know."

"No, I didn't," the reporter said as she sank down on the edge of the bed to remove her shoes. How it was possible for her feet to ache even though she hadn't been chasing around town in a news van seemed unfathomable — until she realized that she'd spent two solid hours in a studio, on her feet on concrete floors, working out the settings and lighting and such for not only Wayne's interview but also for another interview she'd be recording on Wednesday, before the Thanksgiving holiday weekend began. "Remind me to send my laundry out to be cleaned if I need something done in a pinch and you're the only one who can do it," she called after her husband when he disappeared into the huge walk-in closet. "What the heck _was_ that stink?"

"Ah..." There was a pause during which Roxanne could hear the telltale sound of a protective polymer underskin being removed. Neither she nor Megamind had any inhibitions about undressing in front of one another, not anymore, but in the most recent improvement to the material that the genius used to make up for his lack of invulnerability in battle, he had altered the color of it from black to a perfect match for his blue skin. It helped to heighten the illusion that he _was _invulnerable should his outer clothing be torn during a fight, and thus made at least some of the petty criminals think twice before using firearms or other projectiles against him. He knew that sooner or later, it would also prompt some more devious villain into attempting a vastly more deadly attack on him, but by then, he hoped to have his armoring force field "skin" perfected, for himself as well as Minion and Roxanne.

In the meantime, it gave his wife the creeps to watch him take it off. It looked for all the world as if he was peeling away a layer of his own skin, and it was a sight she preferred to avoid, especially right before a meal. When she heard the distinctive _squelch-pop! _of it coming free, she knew he would be back out shortly.

He was, pulling on a loose silk robe as he headed for a dresser with his everyday at-home clothes. "It was a mix of things that were soaked into the rags that went into the wash with the bags. Butyl mercaptan, sulphur... I don't recall the exact combination. There'd been an accident in the lab earlier in the day and Minion was out getting replacement supplies. That's how I wound up on laundry duty. I'd never done it before, and I thought washing fabrics was supposed to _remove _odors, not spread them around. Minion really did try his best to wash the stink out of the bags — it became a matter of pride, after the first few rewashings — but he never managed it."

He was about to open one of the dresser drawers when he saw Roxanne still sitting there, rubbing at one foot. Concern flickered across his face. "Are you hurt?" he asked solicitously, forgetting about his clothes for the moment to come see if she was all right.

"Hmmm... not really, maybe a blister on my heel, here," she said after exploring the spot with her fingers. She stood briefly to peel off her panty hose, not wanting to risk having the blister pop and then glue itself to the thin nylon by drying against it. "I think I need to put this pair with my 'sitting shoes' collection. This is the second time I've gotten a blister from standing in them for more than half an hour."

After she'd spoken the diagnosis, Megamind changed direction for the connected bathroom and returned quickly with a familiar blue jar of his very effective healing salve. "They do look nice on you, but they aren't worth wearing if they hurt you," was his opinion. He sat down beside her and took the injured foot to liberally apply the ointment not only to the blister but to the rest of her abused foot as well.

She leaned back a bit and hummed appreciatively, enjoying both the soothing properties of the salve and the strength of the fingers carefully massaging her aching foot. "Oh, that feels wonderful," she purred, eyes closing in blissful relief. "You know, if you'd treated me to things like this instead of the smelly bags and the knockout spray, I would've screamed for you all along, just to make you happy."

Megamind smiled as he nudged her to shift position so that he could attend to her other foot as well. She happily pivoted atop the bed so that she could lay both feet in his lap. "It wouldn't've done much for my villainous image," he pointed out. "Not unless I decided to try a different kind of villainy. But Minion got uncomfortable whenever our bantering strayed too far into flirting, so being some kind of _lootheerio _was out of the question."

"Lothario," Roxanne corrected, purely on reflex. "I'd say too bad, but I wouldn't really mean it. This way, I get you all to myself." She sat straighter to drape her arms around his neck. "You know," she said in a low, sultry voice, "we could always test the theory about what kind of reaction you might get from that little sphere right after we've... ah... been together..."

"A very tempting suggestion," he purred right back, adding sadly, "but Minion and Madeleine have been working half the day on something special. Remember, Wayne's coming for dinner tonight, so we can celebrate his birthday. He plans to spend the actual day tomorrow with his mother."

The brunette groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "Yeah, I forgot, and he and Minion both reminded me just this morning. Okay, then, I wouldn't want to disappoint anyone. But let's not keep the party going too late. This is one experiment I _really _can't wait to try!"

* * *

><p>The dinner party went quite nicely, especially now that Wayne knew about the existence of Megamind's meticulously constructed home and was permitted into it. The former hero was understandably nervous about the interview on Sunday; he was glad that they weren't doing it live but were taping it the same morning. That way if something went wrong, there would be time to redo it, and since the station management and some visiting network brass would be sitting in during the recording — this being Roxanne's first major spot on the network's highly acclaimed Sunday evening news magazine — they fully expected that there would be some powerful reactions. They both wanted that feedback to his big revelations, which had thus far been kept tightly under wraps; even Jack Kincaid and Sam Albright thought this was going to be a "Metro Man: Where Is He Now?" kind of story. If the small group of technicians and executives had too strong a negative response to his revelation of the truth, they'd already come up with several ways to present it that wouldn't be quite so shocking to the citizens of Metro City. Until then, all they could do was wait.<p>

Fortunately, Wayne didn't want to stay too late, since he planned to begin his actual birthday with his mother by having breakfast with her at her favorite little restaurant on the lakefront. Lady Scott already knew what her adopted son was planning to do on Sunday, and though the elderly woman could often seem totally out of touch with the rest of the world, she was surprisingly supportive and understanding about this. Lies, she'd told him, never got you anything but trouble. Maybe she'd spoiled him too much when he was a boy, letting him gorge himself on attention when she shouldn't have, but he wasn't stupid, and they both knew it. He had had good teachers at excellent schools and plenty of role models for how to be a hero, in the history books alone. He should've been a proper man and a proper hero and learned the difference between answering a true cry for help and the whine of someone too lazy to do their own work a long time ago.

Wayne had been shocked when she'd told him this — every bit as much as his three friends were when he told them what she'd said. It was turning out that Lady Scott wasn't as vapid as he'd often believed, but had spent too much of her own life deferring to a husband who in turns was domineering and dismissive. Since Lord Scott's death, she'd started to return to being her own person, a person who had more spunk in her than they'd imagined possible. It was her idea for the two of them to spend Wayne's official birthday together, so that he might get a good solid grasp of himself as just a man before he went out and admitted his all-too-human failings to the rest of the world.

For all that they had been rivals for more than twenty years, Megamind actually felt genuine sympathy for his new, unlikely friend's position. Admitting that one had been wrong was hard enough; admitting that one had deliberately perpetrated a series of wrongs was almost too difficult to be considered. He himself had managed it only because of his love for Roxanne and his friendship with Minion. Wayne had many admirers and fans in the world, but until recently only one person he felt he could safely call his friend. Roxanne couldn't save him in the same way that she'd been able to save Megamind, but perhaps together, the support of all three of them and his mother might be enough to see the retired superhero through any backlash and difficulties that might lie ahead in the murky waters following his confession.

When he left that night, Wayne was at least in a hopeful mood, which was preferable to the anxious depression he'd been coming near when he'd arrived. Minion had put Madeleine in charge of the housekeeping bots to handle the clean up, and had gone off to power down and sleep so that he could get up bright and early the next morning to be the Grand Marshall of Metro City's annual Holiday Parade.

When they'd first asked him, the ichthyoid had suspected that the parade's sponsor, the Chamber of Commerce, had snubbed Megamind because their noses were still out of joint over his wedding taking place out of town, but the blue hero hadn't been the least bit offended. Not only did Minion have an easier time dealing with cold weather these days — especially since he was now in his brand new and greatly improved gorilla cybersuit with its temperature-controlled habitat dome — but he was undeniably popular with kids, suitable for what was an event heavily aimed at children.

Besides, Megamind had been invited the year before, and the day had started with icy winds and ended with the beginnings of an early lake effect snowstorm. It was an experience he was in no hurry to repeat, so he was just as happy to see Minion so honored. Regardless of the weather, he would be thrilled, and that was all that really mattered.

So it was still a reasonable hour when the couple retired to their suite, with plenty of energy to engage in Roxanne's suggested "experiment" — at least when they started. By the time they finished, they were both quite sleepy, and she was perfectly content to curl up under the covers, snuggled against her husband, ready to go right to sleep.

A very sated Megamind happily joined her, but an hour or so later he was awake again, his brain refusing to stay asleep. Consciously, he had _not _been observing and analyzing his emotional state during their lovemaking, but his subconscious brain was such that parts of it never stopped observing and analyzing, even during sleep or intense waking activities that either demanded full concentration or let his conscious mind simply let go and enjoy. For most of his life, he hadn't been able to deliberately access the information which that part of his mind collected; it tended to show up in dreams and sudden flashes of inspiration.

But lately, that was changing. Though he still had the odd, vivid dreams and moments of brilliant insight, he found that if he could still his more hyperactive surface thinking, the memories of things unconsciously observed would come forward into his conscious thoughts. Then, he could study them to his heart's content.

Of course, achieving such a state of calm wasn't easy; he still tended to bounce off walls in many ways, chasing after ideas as an energetic cat might chase after a mouse. He enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, and being patient enough for long enough to still his thought processes was frequently difficult. It wasn't at all surprising that he didn't bother with much in the way of conscious thought during sex; Roxanne actually seemed to prefer it when he followed his instincts rather than think about — and then overthink — what he was doing. So far, it worked splendidly for both of them, and he saw no reason to change what was proving to be such a magnificent recipe for delight.

Still, he couldn't shut off his subconscious, and the delicious physical relaxation that followed the release of lovemaking was exceptionally calming, to both mind and body. So when his body had rested long enough, his never-sleeping subconscious gave the rest of his brain a kick, prompting him to awaken. And once awake, all the thoughts and impressions about what he had been feeling on multi-layered emotional rather than on purely physical levels came bubbling to the front of his thoughts. For a while, still half-asleep, he was content to merely review them, but the clearer they became, the more restless he felt.

Maybe Roxanne had been right, after all. He hadn't ever gone to consult the data sphere while feeling these specific feelings; they were strong but also wonderful, and he couldn't imagine why they might make him want to seek comfort or counsel from his parents. Quite the opposite, in fact. Being able to feel such love, he knew that he was loved in return, and the knowledge was all the comfort and assurance he could need.

But separating the intensity of the emotion in those moments from the equally intense physical sensations of passion wasn't something he'd ever tried to do. Now that his brain had gone and done it for him, he wished that it had waited until morning before presenting him with its analysis, but the more he let things slosh through his head, the more interesting they became. He knew that a lot of literature and philosophy and art and even science had been devoted to studying the different kinds of emotional love, but he wondered just how much humans were capable of perceiving the fullness of it, the ways in which they differed and yet were all subtly one and the same.

Perhaps he was wrong; the analysis of his subconscious might well have been way off the mark. But his instinctive perceptions — the ways that had been born into him and were a part of all his people — told him that this was no mistake. This _was _important to the blue-skinned, big-headed race that had given birth to him, and thus it might be an important key to determining answers for his questions. He had to find out.

The room was dark, the most significant light the city glow filtering in through the arched leaded glass window above the bed, which from outside appeared to be another broken-paned, grimy window on the long abandoned power plant. The glow was enough to navigate by on even the cloudiest night, and in the soft filtered light, Megamind could see Roxanne curled up beside him. She had rolled over in her sleep so her back was now tucked into the curve of his side.

She looked so happily peaceful, he debated whether or not he should waken her. The idea of these loving emotions being a possible key had been hers, so he thought it might be rude to go see if she was right without her coming along. He should wait until morning, he told himself, but his mind wasn't wanting to go back to sleep, and a part of him was afraid that if he did, the things that were so clear in his thoughts right now would be lost or at least muddied.

Well, he could try. He turned onto his side and gently nudged his wife by squeezing her shoulder and softly kissing her exposed ear. "Roxanne?" he whispered, at a volume he hoped might be loud enough to get her attention, but not too loud to startle her. He'd made that mistake often enough, and he _really _didn't want another elbow in the mouth or eye or whatever other sensitive body part she happened to choose in her marginally awake state. "Roxanne, love, are you awake?" Well, _that_ was the classic stupid question! He wondered if everyone trying to wake up someone else at an ungodly hour asked it.

"Hmmm," she mumbled back, clearly still a few fathoms below the surface. "Wh'sup, hon?"

She knew it was him and she hadn't hit him with the elbow or her heel, yet. A good sign. "I think your idea for an 'experiment' might've worked."

After another sleepy hum, she answered with, "Tha'sh good. 'gratulations."

"Thanks. I can't sleep so I'm gonna go see if it works."

"Great, hon," she said around a huge yawn. "Tell me 'bout it in th' mornin'."

He blinked. "Are you sure you don't want to be there, just in case it _does _work?"

"Nuh-uh. Wanna sleep. Ha' fun, sweetie." With that she burrowed more deeply under the covers and into her pillow.

Megamind stayed where he was for a moment, then decided she was in earnest. Well, it _had _been a hard day for her, from what she'd told him. She needed the sleep, and maybe she was right about him doing this alone, out of it though she was. Not that he'd object to her being there, but there was something very personal and private about this, something that might make him feel even worse than he might if the test failed.

Decided, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, smiled when she made soft happy noises, then carefully slipped out of the bed, tucking the comforter around her back to keep her warm.

Though they kept the living quarters quite adequately heated throughout the colder months of the year, the nighttime temperature was set lower for more comfortable sleeping (and snuggling). Mindful of this, not to mention the fact that he wasn't a big fan of shivering and cold toes, Megamind slipped into his discarded pajamas and robe and slippers before heading to the library, where the data sphere was kept inside a very secure display case. He silently tiptoed across the room and out into the corridor, closing the door behind him without causing his sleeping wife to so much as twitch an eyelash.

Halfway down the corridor to the library, he had to sidestep the Brain, who was out doing his nightly floor maintenance routine and would become very disgruntled if his work was in any way disrupted. Clean floors took precedence even over Daddy's nighttime wanderings, so Daddy made sure he never got in the way. He'd lost at least half a dozen pairs of slippers to the singleminded bot's retaliation.

Inside the library itself, all was quiet. Though a stranger wouldn't even know that the wall niche in which it was kept existed, Megamind had no trouble getting into it to fetch the small data sphere his parents had sent with him in his escape pod. Since it had been returned to him when he was six by Nick Cabela, the homeless man who had found it and kept it safe, the blue genius had learned many things from the recordings it contained. Most significant to him had been his personal name and the name of his family or clan, but too many of his most burning questions were still unanswered. What had actually happened to his home world, what had it been called, what was Minion's name and why had he been sent with him, why was he apparently the only one of his kind to have survived?

Time to try to discover if the answers were even out there to be found. After fetching the small case in which the sphere was stored, Megamind went to a corner of the library that was one of Roxanne's favorite places to curl up with a good book. The spot had her scent lingering about it to his sensitive nose, and that combined with many memories of finding her here, of sharing one of the big chairs with her while she read him something interesting she'd found, often segueing into tender sessions of kissing and cuddling, made it an excellent place to try to summon up all the remembered feelings of their shared love. He folded himself into the big chair much as she did, and when he was settled with his legs crossed, tailor fashion, he prepared himself for the experiment.

The softly cushioned high-backed chair made for a very comfortable little nest of sorts. The tall back let him sit upright and yet be supported, so if he accidentally drifted off to sleep rather than into a meditative state, he wouldn't wake up and find himself aching from having flopped into some awkward position. He opened the little box with the sphere and set it into a crook of one leg, where it would be safe and secure. He settled both arms on those of the chair, then closed his eyes and fell into the soothing rhythms of meditation.

He had learned how to do this years ago from his Uncle Wuxi in prison, a technique that was useful for many things. He had found it especially handy for helping his body recover from illness and injury, and so had kept in practice perforce during his years of battling Metro Man. These days, it was still useful for those things, but also for calming down and getting back some kind of perspective after dealing with such annoyances as government idiots who wanted to know _why _he couldn't make de-guns for the entire state police forces. At his own expense. Or why he couldn't design death rays and covert mind reading machines for the military and the TSA. Oh, how _happy_ he'd been for that timely Presidential Pardon, which took away the last leverage such people might use against him to force him to use his gifts, and his assets, for their own profit, or for things that went against even the morals of a former supervillain!

Now, his familiarity with meditation allowed him to quickly relax back into that very pleasant state of mind he'd been in upon wakening, where the all feelings of his love for Roxanne were woven together in a single, beautiful tapestry that wrapped all about him like the softest and warmest and strongest of blankets. The emotions returned, washing over him, a wave that was merely echoed by the climax of physical love, then sank into him, becoming a part of him, easing a thirst that would always be thirsty for more.

When he felt himself in the peaceful state he desired, he opened his eyes again and slowly reached for the sphere. The blue fingers hesitated before touching it. What if he was wrong? It would be bad enough to face another disappointing failure, but would it be worse to fail when the hoped for trigger was something so precious to him?

No, that wouldn't do. The things he felt for Roxanne would remain precious, untarnished, no matter _what_ happened now. Doubt, on the other hand, could poison the attempt before it began. So the green eyes closed again while he recentered himself, pushing away the doubt and latching onto that powerful determination and optimism that was so much a part of what defined him. When he was back in that emotional place where he wanted to be, he reached out, picked up the sphere, and opened his eyes.

He saw the familiar blossoming of beautiful lights that always appeared as the sphere responded to his direct touch, and for the first time, he understood that they were something more than a mechanism of whatever system projected the images that only he and persons in direct contact with him could see. They always extended beyond the area of the visual recording, always reached out and wrapped about him. He'd thought that it was a necessary part of the detection and projection process, but now he knew it wasn't. It was a visual representation of his parents' love for him, reaching out and gathering him into their embrace as they themselves could no longer do.

That realization brought tears to his eyes, as well as a firm certainty. Roxanne was right. This was the key that he hadn't brought to it before, the key of a love that encompassed so many things, so much both in himself and of himself and beyond himself. He was now not only a full adult of his own people, but a free and accepted man in his new world. He loved a woman who loved him in return, unconditionally, and he had finally come to love himself in healthy, positive ways, not the ways of an abused child desperate to feel wanted, to feel special. His inner child was more alive and more healthy than it had ever been because it was no longer a little dictator trying to run his life without knowing its own abilities and its own proper place. He was proud of himself, Mykaal, in the ways that he should be, for reasons that were true and not trumped up. He could come now to seek answers, and accept them for what they were, not demand that they be what he wanted them to be.

He watched and felt the embrace of his parents with a soft smile on his face, glad that he finally understood what this truly meant. He accepted it and allowed it to soothe him, making no effort to change things or demand information. And just as he reached a point at which he could have happily remained, content with this and wanting nothing more, the lights before him shifted into an image while those around him kept him in their embrace.

It was his father. He looked much as he always had in Megamind's memories, but also different. Tired, sad, on the edge of an exhaustion both physical and emotional. And even so, he smiled. "Mykaal, my son, if you are seeing this message, then our hope that you would find a good and happy adult life on your new world has come to pass. If you know nothing greater than this in your life, then you will have had a life well spent. And yet, this means that you have also come to that point where even more lies before you. It is not a path you _must_ take, but it is one you may _choose _to take, if you so desire, and it is the path to a kind of greatness that even among us has seldom been known.

"We sent you to this new world, Mykaal, for several reasons. The first and greatest is that we love you. You are our only child, and we knew even before you were born that if you were born before the cataclysm came upon us, your life here would be brief, at best a matter of days. As any parents might, we were desperate to see you survive because of our love alone. And we were permitted the means to give you that chance because of what you are."

His father's smile, though still sad, broadened. "I know that this makes little sense to you. We know much about the planet to which we sent you, Earth, and we also know that its peoples are far behind us in terms of technology and knowledge and development. But we also know that they are inquisitive and inventive, and could provide the kind of environment in which your young gifts could grow and flourish. Part of why your mother and I will be glad if you see this message is because it means that you have achieved a degree of acceptance and stability and support that will make possible the destiny of greatness that still lies dormant within you."

Though intrigued, Megamind nonetheless sighed. "I wish I knew what that _was,"_ he whispered, mildly frustrated.

It seemed as if his father heard him. "Before we can show you how this potential can be unlocked and achieved, there are things you should know, about us, about the world that gave birth to you, and what lies within you, about how it was decided that you alone of all the children of our world should be given this chance. The capacity of the device you now hold is limited, and we could not fit both our messages for you and that tale into it. If your escape vehicle was not lost to you during these many years, you should take this recorder to it and place it into this spot, here."

A detailed image of his pod as it had been before being knocked around by asteroids and bounced across Metro City appeared beside his father. He pointed to an area on the inside just below the hatch, which lit up as he indicated it to make its position clear. "When this release is activated, a compartment will open behind the right passive control panel." That area also lit up. "Inside, you will find two flat boxes, one large and one small. The larger cannot be opened until after you have opened and made use of what is in the first. If you can fetch these things now, Mykaal, I will tell you what should be done next."

The image suddenly disappeared. Megamind suspected that the sensory detectors in the sphere had picked up and interpreted his reactions to the message, and knew that he did indeed have the pod and could do as instructed. Now very curious indeed, he wasn't about to balk at following those directions. He was also very glad that something in him had never let him literally disassemble the pod, or use bits and pieces of it in other projects. It was the biggest physical connection he had to his homeworld, and though he had examined it as thoroughly as he could without dismantling it, he could never bring himself to risk damaging it further.

Since the pod was in the outer part of the same secured display case in which the data sphere's niche had been concealed, it took only a minute or so for Megamind to follow the instructions. Once he had the boxes in hand — the smaller made of unmarked brushed silver, the larger fashioned of some shimmery blue metal, with an intriguingly intricate and presently meaningless symbol etched into what he presumed was its upper face — he removed the data sphere and returned with all three items to the chair.

After he had settled in again, he needed only a very brief moment to refocus before the message resumed. His father smiled, now a bit less sadly. "The large box you may set aside for the moment," he told his son. "The symbol upon it is that of where it came from, those who provided it; when you have heard the tale of your departure from us, you will understand what it means. The smaller box will open only to your touch, here."

Within the swirl of lights about him, those lights touching the silver box grew brighter, but not as bright as one spot on the center of the upper surface. Megamind pressed his fingers to it, and the box — which had appeared to be a solid cube, without hinges or seam — cracked open. He smiled. It was just like the little case he'd made to hold the sphere. He wondered if he'd seen such things during his short days on his homeworld, or if this was just some kind of lucky coincidence or even a strange racial memory.

When he raised the lid, he saw two things inside. One was a thin, extremely flexible silver-blue metallic band no more than an inch wide and only a small fraction of an inch thick, engraved with a beautiful tracery of fine-drawn patterns of bright silver and deep blue. The lines of the intricate filigree-work came together in a small circle at the center of the band, where a low, narrow ring formed an edge around a hole in the thin metal, a circle smaller than the tip of his pinky.

The second item in the box, nestled in the same soft black fabric that held and protected the band, was what looked to be a pearl or a glass bead, about the size of a single small pea. Its lustrous and shimmery translucence was almost identical to the material and appearance of the data sphere when active, so he presumed that this was also some kind of information storage device. It, however, did not respond in any way when he touched it.

As Megamind frowned at this, his father explained. "You certainly have already noticed the similarity between the message globe you are holding and one of the items within the box. They both store and transmit information, but in different ways. The message globe is intended to be accessed in a fully conscious state, and to be shared by those to whom you are close, and in direct physical contact. The data gem in the box is actually capable of storing much greater amounts of information, but is designed to be imparted during sleep. This gem contains what information concerning our world and its fate that could be quickly assembled and recorded for you; the work of assembling it was performed by my brother, as your mother and I have been spending all our time preparing things for your coming, and your journey to Earth.

"I asked Varaan to make this gem's information unlocked, so that others beside yourself might have a chance to know the tale of your origins, if you so wish. If Ootori is still with you, we hope that you will share it with him, at the very least. Tori's own parents wanted very much to save _their _son, and as he would grow and mature much more quickly, we agreed to send him with you, to be your protector, even as his own people have long been our allies and the protectors of our waters."

Megamind's mouth fell open as he listened, realizing that not only had he been given the name of an uncle he hadn't known existed, but he'd finally heard Minion's true name, and why he'd been sent with him. "Ootori," he echoed. "Tori." He decided he liked the shorter version better; the longer had a feeling of formality that seemed inappropriate for everyday use. But oh yes, he would definitely share anything he discovered now with his old friend, and his wife, and maybe even Bernard and — dare he even _think_ it? — Wayne! But first, he had to figure out how to do this himself!

Again, his father's recording seemed to know what he was feeling — and all things considered, perhaps even as a recording, he did. Emotions were very definitely a powerful part of his people, and how they perceived the universe around them. "The process is very simple, Mykaal. The gem is to be set in the central ring of the band, where it will come into contact with the circuitry and activate it. The band should then be placed across your forehead, so that the inner curve of the stone touches the point just above and between your eyebrows. The activated band will self-adhere once put into place, and will induce a sleeping state within a minute thereafter. It is best to put it on while lying down or seated safely in a position that can be comfortably maintained during the direct transfer process. For you, the transfer of the the information stored in this gem should take approximately four Earth hours; it will be somewhat longer for Tori, and as long as nine hours for the average Earth human. There is no pain in the process, although you will feel a slight tingling when the active band adheres. At the end of the process, it will self-deactivate, and can be removed without any pain or difficulty."

It seemed impossible, but his father's amber eyes seemed to deliberately meet and hold Megamind's bright green ones; the expression in them tugged at his heart. "My son, the very thought that you have found or made a good life for yourself gives me great happiness, even as it brings me pain to know that I will never know or see the man you have become, until the Time After when all is but memory. I hope that you will understand why we did all that we tried to do for you, and that if it somehow brought you pain, you will someday find it in your heart to forgive us. All we can give you now is the memory of our love for you, and the tools that will help you achieve a great destiny, if you so desire it."

With that, the image of his father froze and held for almost a full minute before dissolving back into the swirls of softly colored light. Megamind continued to stare at the place where the image had been for a while, then took a deep breath and released it in a long, slow sigh as he turned his gaze to the box on his lap.

A sleep teaching device. He knew that such things were possible, even with limited Earth science and technology, but he had no doubt that this was every bit as sophisticated and capable as the message sphere still loosely held in his right hand. He transferred the still glowing ball to his left hand to use it as a light source while he picked up the tiny data gem and studied it more closely. It was smooth and perfectly round, iridescent like the material of the message ball. There was no visible evidence of circuits or wire or any other physical instrumentality; amazing to think that it was apparently even more dense a repository of information than the much larger sphere! Megamind rolled it between his fingers as he examined it, then made his decision.

He placed the round gem into the hole at the center of the metal band, pressing down gently to make sure it was secure. He felt more than heard a tiny click as it locked into place. When it did, the stone suddenly lit up, the light flowing from it into all the fine lines of the etched tracery that covered the band.

With it now aglow, he set aside the data sphere and picked up the band in both hands. The filigree, he saw, was engraved on both sides of the thin, highly flexible metal. It was now ready to do what it had been designed to do. And he was ready to receive whatever information it had to offer.

Remembering the caution that it would induce sleep very quickly, the excited blue hero decided to move to a nearby sofa, where he could settle down and not have to worry about falling out of the chair while he slept and learned. He placed the now empty box, the large unopened box, and the sphere with its case on the low table beside the couch, arranged the throw pillows to make himself comfortable, then stretched out on his back.

He was taking a few deep breaths, preparing himself for what he was about to do, when one of the household sentry bots doing his normal rounds happened by, saw Daddy awake, and gave a querulous little bowg.

Megamind started when he heard the unexpected noise, then relaxed and smiled when he spotted the brainbot. "It's just Daddy, Neddy," he told the bot, who like the other household sentry bots had been given a name that somehow meant _guard._ "I didn't have a fight with Mommy," he added when the bot gave a second, more unsettled bowg. "I'm just doing some special research. I'm going to be taking a nap here for a little while, so make sure I'm not disturbed. Oh, and would you bring me a blanket from the hall closet? Sounds like the wind's picked up, and it's getting a little chilly in here."

Neddy was happy to comply with the request, as a happy Daddy napping in the library while doing middle of the night research was much better than an angry Daddy hiding out because he and Mommy had had a nasty argument. Neddy remembered the unpleasant months of the spring and summer before Ms Ritchi had officially become Mommy, and if he never saw or heard another one of those awful fights, Neddy would be one very happy little brainbot.

As Neddy floated off to fetch the blanket, Megamind returned his attention to the device in his hands, lifting it up to hold it before his eyes. It was a truly beautiful thing, like the simplicity of the sphere and the intricate filigree work he used to embellish the de-guns. He wondered if he'd made those little embellishments on his own handiwork because of things he remembered peripherally from his few days after birth, on his homeworld. It could well be, just as it could well be that the information this new device had to impart would somehow answer that very question.

The thought of it and all this tiny glowing pea might have stored up, ready to be discovered, made Megamind both eager and impatient. His father had said that it would take a minute before it induced sleep, hadn't he? It surely wouldn't take that long for Neddy to return, and excited as he was, he would probably take longer to go under, whether or not the sleep was forced.

Unable to wait, the reformed villain raised the band a bit higher and positioned it carefully so that it would rest across his forehead in the way his father had instructed. He felt the cool stone touch the proper point, then slipped his fingers out from under the flexible band, letting it drape across his brow. As soon as the shimmering metal touched the skin there, he felt a sudden but not painful tingle, as well as the odd sensation of the entire band adhering to his flesh, a feeling almost like suction.

For a moment or two, Megamind felt perfectly wide awake, certain that he would remain so for a while. And then without any conscious thought, his eyes closed, his entire body relaxed, and sleep washed through him like the inrush of a rapid storm-driven tide. On its heels, completely undetectable to any outside observer, came a flood of information, entering his lightning-quick thoughts like a dream so vivid, it couldn't possibly be a mere dream, but was life itself.

When Neddy returned before that first minute was ended, he saw Daddy fast asleep with the most peaceful of looks on his long blue face and an odd, softly glowing thing across his brow, shimmering like some strange half-coronet. Mindful of what his master had said about the chill in the room, Neddy draped the blanket across Daddy's slim body and carefully tucked him in before continuing with his rounds.

And in the morning, when he woke with all the new stories and information now perfectly settled into his thoughts and memories, Megamind couldn't wait to go wake up Roxanne and Minion and tell them both a tale that would change their lives forever.

_The End_  
><em>(for now)<em>


End file.
